The rabbit shrugged, "Nah 'specially miss. Ambient energy ain't here whatit was back home."

One of the halfbreed's large brown eye's twitched, the hint of emerald characteristic of hazel seemed to flare just a bit brighter only moments before the boy charged, throwing both the agent and his elder guardian aside, eyes locked on the rock.

"'Though it seems he wants a go." Tobias smirked landing on his rump and and watching the boy reach his target and dive at the rock hurling a small fist at it. The resounding impact was something not only deafening but literally earthshaking. The fact that such a small hand had caused it only amplified the effect on the bystanders as the cavernous trap they were caught in rumbled. Another thump resounded, and another as the youth stood toe to toe with the wall smashing away at it's unyielding bulk. Faster and faster, he continued the barrage, only those with an eye for the supernatural would notice a faint blue aura surrounding the frantic child's small form. Indeed the rock did begin to shudder under the intense barrage, minutes passed and the halfbreed's speed slowed to a steady rate, clothing soaked with sweat, and fists battered bloody from his desperate and still unending attempt to escape returning to captivity, a place where his childhood had come to an abrupt and unsavory end.

Tobias watched the scene with stoic poise, though his eyes yielded an irrepressible pain he was holding back within a mind all to experienced in such a feat. "...Way the blood is splattering on the rock. it's further from the impact point when he was really lashing out, now more drippin' cuz he's tirin'. Can't say it's shiny you did this to him. Given his past, no telling how far he'll go. Doesn't feel pain, not since the last time he was taken to an 'agency headquarters'. Almost makes you reflect on the way our decisions impact those around us.

Take me for example, I was little they taught me that those like yourself, any would allow a child to come to harm regardless the scene, should be destroyed, mainly due to them bein' evil. However. This little bunny here learned that every act has what my brother called a 'mitigating circumstance'. In the end it's on yerself to finalize if end justifies means. Lotta query you need ta go through before little Corky finishes and I have to try to stop the bleedin'. Is taking me in worth it? Can ya live with seeing those tiny bloody hands every night? Knowing ya made his nightmare real. What yer life is really worth." He folded his arms, "Master Bant taught me it's better to teach someone like yerself to fish, rather than cook one for ya. Hope miss ain't allergic ta fish, e'la." His smirk was so superficial even a newborn could see through it. He was straining to maintain that nonchalant demeanor that came so naturally before, it was a testament to his loyalty to his charge, but something was still outweighing it.

OOC: Oh gosh, that little fox (coyote?) is adorable, and the turquoise accents the colors really nicely. Then again, I've always been a sucker for that particular stone, so I might be just a bit biased =)

Also, amazing post as always Gem! I would say the same to you Toby, but your ego doesn't need more boosting apparently =P haha, j/k. You guys rock, seriously, I am too lucky. Wish I could say the same for poor Ottilie!

P.S. Hooray for page 4? =D

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was like Elsinoire hadn't heard him, her horror at what was occurring eclipsing all else. Scrambling to her feet, she was dashing forward to stop the boy (or try to, anyway) when a blur of orange tore past. Ottilie was in front of her, leaping to sever a bundle of thick vines from the wall and pulling them along in her wake. Reaching the slowly yielding obstruction and the rapidly unyielding Henry, she leapt at the wall again, kicking off with all her might this time to flip over the child's head and land on his other side. Gathering the vines she'd dropped into place on the ground beneath her, she waited until Henry drew back before pulling them up taut between him and the wall. Her intent was only to use them to hold him from it, to try and buy a few minutes in which she could attempt to reassure the furious halfbreed. Unfortunately, it is my sad duty to report that at this point Ottilie's luck ran out, her strength and good intentions no match for Henry's desperate determination, and the only words she had time to utter before he broke through were as follows.

"Henry stop plea--!"

She wanted to say more. Knowing Ottilie as I do, I believe she would have apologized (again), would have told Henry she'd been wrong to agree to Elsinoire's deal. Perhaps she would have told him she'd even go back on her word to the older girl to ensure his freedom. Would he have believed her? I cannot say, but she would have tried if there was even an iota of a chance it would stop him from coming to further harm. In any case, she never got the opportunity. For Henry snapped the thick vines as though they were pieces of string, the force of the break sending Ottilie, who was already straining backwards to hold them in place, stumbling into the opposite wall, where the back of her head connected hard with the rock.

"Ah--!"

She squeaked, then fell silent, slumping to the ground. The last thing she heard clearly was Legs' high pitched, frightened chirping, and the last thing she focused on were Elsinoire's rapidly approaching eyes, eyes that expressed regret at having inadvertently created yet another mitigating circumstance. Dimly she knew the others were rushing (had been rushing?) forward as well, but their voices and shouts were unintelligible, like calls from land when she was sinking underwater.

No...can't...need ta help--

But night of a different kind enveloped her, and she sunk into herself, conscious of no more.

OOC: Turquoise is actually good luck for us... and probably most central tribes. He had a story for everything, not to mention all his stuff is handmade. I nabbed the last fox he had, hehe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A feminine cry of help, no matter how meek, was more than enough to turn the savage youth's attention. A final blow to the rock and he tore toward Ottilie's sinking form on all fours yelping out a string of obscenities both basic and alien, violently jumping on Elsie and slamming her to the ground before taking off again towards the now submerged creature.

Tobias meanwhile sighed and headed to the rockface. The rabbit ran a finger over the bloodstained surface before turning it towards himself and studying his crimson covered digit carefully and muttering lowly, "Never going to learn control, I swear it." The lepoid rubbed his fingers together, embedding the boy's blood into his fur and making a loose fist. He looked back, making sure they were all busy with the creature drowning. A telltale splash signified Henry had reached the water, others were sure to follow. The yellow furred alien lifted a hand, opened his fist back to open palm and placed it to the rock just as he'd done before, all his fingertips touching the target. "The dead hold no malice against a rock, unless it's responsible for injuring an innocent." He spoke lowly just before he collapsed his open into a fist in a burst of blinding speed, hitting the rock with what couldn't have been more than three inches of force. Deep cracks almost instantly emerged on it's once flawless surface, the rabbit walked away, back towards the commotion. He knew the boy would try again as soon as the woman that had acknowledged him was safe.

"Miss agent, don't think my little pal's takin to ya much, e'la." Elsinoire though groggy, heard the rabbit's nonchalant yet still mocking voice over her. He was standing beside her watching the rescue attempts with a more serious face than she'd expected from his tone. His arms were crossed, and his brow was furrowed in concern.

OOC: Whoops, my bad, there wasn't actually supposed to be water. I was trying to avoid the common 'and then everything went black / quiet' by instead using drowning metaphors and similes to describe Ottilie's losing consciousness (i.e. hearing sounds as though she's underwater). But hey, lets go with it! We'll say there was a fissure in the ground along the wall that led into a flooded passage like the one Aurora swam through earlier, and no one noticed it because more important things were happening (AKA threats and trauma). It makes complete sense =) sorry about that again, I promise to use my metaphors more carefully in the future!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elsie didn't answer, lowering her head. It's a harsh lesson to suddenly find yourself upon the same scales of merit by which you normally judge only others. Even as she weighed her actions against what she considered ideal, even as she saw what she'd failed to see earlier, at that moment the agent was too proud to admit her tenacity had caused her to lose perspective, and she felt ashamed of that fact.

Meanwhile, Jerin dove after Henry, the cold water washing away any lingering lassitude he was feeling. Junk slipped from his shoulder a moment before, opting to remain on land while he went after Ottilie. Opening his eyes, the opaque third lids possessed by all Oasis born allowed him to take in the scene with amazing clarity. The halfbreed had hold of one of Ottilie's arms, and was struggling to pull her back from the dark depths along with Legs, who kicked frantically, tugging her shoulder guard. Scowling, he swam forward, grabbing the Oasis creature's other arm and more or less dragging the trio the last few feet to break the surface of the water. Aurora, Dirac, and Junk hovered around the opening anxiously, the sentient pair reaching to lift the unconscious girl while creature, insect, and boy scrambled out of the gap. Jerin didn't bother to shake his fur dry, instantly going to Ottilie's side as Aurora lay her down carefully, elevating her head.

"O?!"

He knelt over her, dripping, pushing wet fur from his eyes. Dirac, who felt it was high time he asserted himself, came forward, inquiring.

"Is she breathing? I know CPR--"

She coughed as if in answer, drawing breath, but remained comatose, beyond even Jerin's reach now. He cradled the back of her head gently, pressing his forehead to hers with a whisper that was both dark threat and quiet plea.

"Don't toy with me. This isn't how you die. If you could, you'd tell me this isn't how you die--"

He was forced to pull away before he could say more, driven back by a wet and furious Legs, who flung his small body at the larger creature's face, flung himself at anyone he deemed too close in fact, chattering a string of obscenities no one could understand. Morally offensive words aside, this is what he said.

"--Stay away from her! Haven't you done enough?! You're reprehensible, all of you! Just stay away!"

When everyone had retreated to his liking (and in the end they had to, or else risk being stung or poked in the eyes by the riled decipede) Legs fell to crawling over and under her head, examining it, all the while chattering worries, rubbing his face against hers, patting and touching and nudging as animals do when they care for someone and that someone is hurt. Aurora glanced at Jerin, exclaiming.

"Jerin."

She touched his hand, the hand that had held the back of Ottilie's head. It was smeared with red. Legs corroborated the reality of this discovery when he sprung away suddenly, leaping to where his partner had dropped her bag and scuttling inside it. Moments later he emerged, dragging an electric shaver and holding a small bottle of pale liquid in his pincers. Not wanting to lose another second carting either further when every second might count, the decipede then made a decision he was not entirely thrilled with. Setting both objects down, he looked up at Aurora, the one who had saved him, chattering and gesturing at the bottle, then at Ottilie, then the shaver, then back at Ottilie, patting the back of his head. Jerin interpreted quickly.

"He wants you to inject her with that substance. To prevent seizures, I suspect..."

He eyed the clippers.

"...and after that, shave the back of her head. She must need stitches somewhere."

Legs nodded rapidly, hopping up and down. Jerin looked at Dirac.

"Would you be so kind as to assist Aurora?"

The human nodded gravely, kneeling by the unfortunate girl. Wiping his hand on his coat, Jerin dripped past Toby, Henry, and Elsie, stopping by the battered wall.

"Junk. Ball. Jack."

He re-called his robotic allies. Junk shuddered distastefully at the water that dropped from him, but came, unable to ignore a summons, especially when Jerin's voice was underlined with something like controlled fury, waiting to be unleashed upon anyone or anything unfortunate enough to irritate him. Resuming its place, the robot brushed droplets from its master's shoulder while the Oasis renegade searched the connecting wall. Frowning, he looked up at the waiting Jack.

"Search this wall on the other side for a loose panel, please."

Saluting him with an orb, the Jack droned up through the overgrowth, and was soon heard on the opposite side of the barricade. After a minute it returned, droning triumphantly. Jerin nodded, pushing damp bangs from his eyes to look at Junk.

"You know what to do."

The bot inclined its head, then reached up to coil around one of Jack's orbs. Their master instructed it.

"Please carry Junk to the other side and show him what you found."

The Jack saluted again and drifted back up, pausing momentarily to struggle with getting Junk through the foliage. After a minute there was a definite thump from the other side, the sound of rock hitting the ground followed by the tapping of keys. Several more minutes passed, until finally the wall shuddered, creaking back into its slot as much as it was able, which given the damage done by first Henry and then Tobias, created barely enough room for a creature to squeeze through. Still, it was an opening, and Jack drifted back through this, depositing Junk on Jerin's shoulder again. Ball swirled delightedly at its master's heel, scribbling 'good job?' Jerin smiled in spite of himself, kneeling to pat it.

"Very good."

Standing amidst its celebratory dronings, he turned to the dejected Elsinoire, extending a hand to gesture at the opening.

"Your exit, agent. I suggest you make use of it. Now."

He withdrew his hand. She looked up at him with the eyes of one who has lost her way, and when you lose your bearing or bearings (however briefly), it matters little in what direction you initially go. So standing shakily, she trudged past Jerin, squeezed through the opening, and was gone. He turned an eye on Tobias then.

"It was Ottilie's wish that your charge not come to further harm, sir. I have honored that desire. Now, it is my wish that she not come to further harm. Please be so magnanimous as to honor my desire by--"

But here he broke off, smiling suddenly, tapping his cheek. After a minute he continued, amused.

"--well, I was going to say 'by leaving,' but it occurs to me that your boys recklessness is no different than O's. And yet, here I am."

He tilted his head to the rabbit, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Therefore, do as you will."

With that, he returned to hover restlessly at Ottilie's side.

OOC: Ack, I was half asleep and three metaphoric references to water screwed over my pow-wow ridden brain. Sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henry had started to charge at the decapede, still in a blind rage, but it was at that point his adrenaline fueled burst of strength and speed failed. Blood loss and fatigue overcame him and he staggered backward away from the scene, then drunkenly drug himself towards Tobias and Jerin

"Seems I wander up on the most unlikely of bedfellows in the strangest of places. We both have an unhealthy like for those with a kindness for hurting themselves. Make 'em the most important things to us and never look back, e'la." The rabbit gave Jerin a smirk, "Been trying to see ya, but there ain't a specka distinguishable in ya. Only mistakes I make in judgin' folks is when they haven't a presence, suchis yerself. Gotta wait for actions to know who ya are. We both have important people, you stand for yours and I'll look for mine, maybe a little'a switchin' if'it come to that, e'la."

"Hey, dork... I think I ate something that didn't..." The boy trailed off as he reached the older rabbit.

Tobias turned as if expecting the next event. The halfbreed lost his balance and fell into the lepoid, who catch him as if he'd do so many a time before. Almost immediately as he felt the rabbit catch him the youth's consciousness slipped away. Tobias did not immediately set to work on him, instead holding him for a few moments with closed eyes, it took a skilled observer to notice the man was actually hugging his little companion, holding him as a mother would an inured babe. A moment later his eyes opened and he lifted the boy fully into his arms and wandering closer to the now group around Ottilie. He cleared his throat rather sheepishly, "I, think I may require some supplies."

Aurora nodded as Jerin finished translating the decipede's chatters, removing her backpack again even as she did so. Setting her backpack next to her, she looked up at Dirac, who had found himself suddenly volunteered into the position of her assistant. "Find a blanket, a sleeping-bag or anything of the like," she instructed as she opened up her own medkit & located the syringes, "and once you've done that give me a hand shifting her onto it. That'll at least give me a somewhat cleaner space to work on than the bare floor". Even as she said those words she recalled that the Rithm militia had removed a blanket from Ottilie's bag during their search. "In fact, get the one from her bag," she instructed Dirac, "that'd be best. It's probably only had her & her friend here on it after all". In the brief time it took Dirac to retrieve Ottilie's blanket Jerin had re-joined the group & Aurora had a syringe laid aside in her medkit. Dirac spread the blanket out on the floor & at Aurora's insistence, Jerin helped her & Dirac to gently manouvre Ottilie onto it. "Try to be gentle," Aurora warned as the others lifted, "the girl's not a sack of potatoes!" With that in mind they settled her onto the blanket.

As soon as that was done Aurora picked up the bottle of pale liquid Legs had produced & the syringe she had selected. She held the bottle to the light momentarily, then turned to Jerin. "I wonder if you could ask-," she began & then broke off as though remembering something. "Pardon me," she said a second later, "I forgot for an instant that the language barrier in this case is one-sided. So, Jerin, I wonder if you'd be good enough to translate the answer when I ask-," here she turned to speak directly to Legs, "-what dosage of this liquid would you recommend, since its not a medicine I'm familiar with?" The decipede chatttered an answer & a moment later Jerin translated. "He says you should use a medium-sized dose to be on the safe side," he informed Aurora, "apparently about so much," he concluded, pointing at a mark upon the syringe. Aurora nodded & proceeded to measure the liquid out into the syringe. Then, having done that, she took a gentle but firm hold of one of Ottilie's arms, found a vein & injected the liquid.

Having taken care of the injection and laid aside the used syringe, Aurora attended to the next item on the list. She retrieved the electric shaver & produced needle & thread from her medkit. Carefully moving the girl's head, Aurora soon saw an ugly crimson smear. With a little help from Dirac & Jerin , Aurora was able to keep Ottilie held steady whilst she went to work with the shaver. She sincerely hoped the girl hadn't recently got a haircut she was especially fond of. Having shaved the hair back Aurora inspected the wound. Thanks to the fact that Jerin had inadvertantly smeared the blood earlier, the details were difficult to make out, but Aurora didn't doubt for a second that the injury required stitches. She glanced up at her assistants. "One of you get me some water," she instructed, "it's hard to make out how bad this gash is with blood smeared all around it. Some water from a drinking-flask would be best, since that's likely to be the cleanest, but water from that pool she fell in would do at a pinch". Legs chattered somewhat indignantly at this. Aurora didn't need to understand what he was saying, she could take a good guess. "I know we don't know where that water's been," she said to legs, "but I've drunk water from the Complex & it hasn't done me any harm. In any case, whichever water source we use, I'm going to disinfect the wound anyway, to be on the safe side".

This seemed to satisfy Legs; at any rate he ceased his chattering. Dirac produced a drinking-flask & poured some of its water into the small cup that the lid doubled as. "I haven't used the flask or water yet," he assured Aurora, "so you can be certain this water's clean". Aurora nodded her acknowledgement & taking a small wad of bandage, dipped it in the water & set about wiping away the blood. As the blood disappeared Aurora scrutinized the wound. "It isn't quite as bad as I feared," she informed the others, "it has sliced into the meat a little- which will be painful when she wakes up- but I don't think its caught any of the major blood vessels. She'll have to be careful not to turn her head too suddenly once I've stitched this & she'll have the grandaddy of all headaches once she wakes up, but other than that she's going to be just fine". Legs, Jerin & Dirac looked visibly relieved by this news. The tension that had been present eased considerably as Aurora went to work with her needle & thread. As she was finishing Toby came over, holding Henry in his arms. He cleared his throat rather sheepishly. "I think I may require some supplies," he said.

Aurora glanced over at Henry. The sight of the child was nearly enough to make her tell Toby not to be stupid & set the child down where she could take a better look at him. But she sensed that that would not be a wise course of action & so restrained herself. "Of course," she said & gestured to her own medkit, "I can't speak for the others, but if there's anything in there you think will help you're welcome to use it. I'd offer my services to go with the supplies but," she continued as she turned to face Toby, "I think I already know where you stand on that one".

Toby sighed and looked down, "Wouldn't be complaining bout help with it, but this particular sick one ain't fond of strangers touching 'im. He's half dead an I don' wannim going the other half fighting yerself. Seems this group's already underthought my little buddy once, rather ya not do it again. I'm partial to teaching others through failure, e'la, but not when the failure's a kid dieing."

Aurora nodded as Toby finished. "That's a good point," she admitted, "I can't argue with you when you put it like that". She again gestured to her medkit. "As I said, feel free to use whatever you think's needed," she told him, "and I shan't bother you about letting me assist you again". Having said this, Aurora went back to the finishing touches of Ottilie's treatment. She placed the final stitches & snipped the thread. Although shaving the fur away from the wound had been necessary, Aurora had been careful to insure that the hair nearby would still fall over the wound, concealing the recently-shorn patch. It would look fine as long as the wind didn't blow it. Having wrapped the blanket around Ottilie to keep her warm, Aurora brooded over what Toby had said as she took care of the used syringe.

Though it was true she had the training to take care of even severe wounds, halfbreeds tended to vary significantly in terms of internal structure- even halfbreeds who looked quite similar to regular Creatures. Whilst Aurora might have been able to guess at the internal structure & treatment needed- if it had come to that- the truth was that Toby, the child's guardian, probably had a better knowledge of the child's needs & recuperative abilities than anyone else. And perhaps the training he'd mentioned earlier wasn't simply mystical or military in nature, it might extend to other branches of knowledge as well. Simply put, whilst she might have a good working knowledge of the needs of sentient beings in general, Toby very probably had an excellent knowledge of the needs of one child in particular. In a way he was even thinking of the group as much as the child. After all, when Henry made his recovery he could rest assured that only Toby had touched him. If he didn't recover though- not a pleasant line of thought but not an impossibility- then the responsibility for that would belong to Toby alone. Having finished tending to her own patient, Aurora observed that Legs was keeping watch- or standing guard?- over her. Looking over in Toby's direction she said, "let me know when you're done, so that I can pack this stuff away before we move again".

As Toby gave her a brief, distracted nod, Aurora glanced down at Ottilie. Since it seemed like she'd be asleep for a few hours, Aurora settled down with the others to wait...

OOC: Not at all, I can see where you'd get mixed up! In any case, I like the addition of the water. I kinda wish I'd thought of it straight off actually.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jerin acknowledged Toby with a polite nod. Dirac kept his face impassive, even though he found himself a bit bothered by the rabbit-like creature's words. That they'd all been ignorant to varying degrees of the unfortunate consequences of his charge's aversion to captivity was true. Still, he felt it was unfair of Tobias to include himself, Aurora, and Jerin in his declaration. Of course they'd 'underthought' his companion, they'd only arrived a little less than an hour ago! That was hardly time to form an accurate profile of anyone, especially given the circumstances.

Or is it me?

He wondered suddenly, glancing at Aurora and Jerin.

Did they figure this kid out before...? They got some kind of seventh sense now?

His eyes darkened. One of Dirac's greatest assets and greatest shortcomings was his ability to keep his mouth shut and remain blank, even at the cost of his emotional well being. Houiri beat that much into him, not darkness that threatened, but darkness that restrained all feeling. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall, resting his hands on his knees calmly.

It doesn't matter. I will always be inferior in their eyes. So there's no point in getting upset because that fact will never be more than it is.

While the human lingered within these sunless thoughts, Jerin stared down at Ottilie, his gaze never turning from her face, his expression remaining unchanged from one of complete attentiveness. If she could have told anyone, the Oasis creature would have cautioned, 'never let Jerin be silent.' But she couldn't tell anyone anything. So he sat in triumphant quiet, assessing, filing, waiting...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ottilie regained consciousness gradually. The first thing she was aware of was an agonizing throbbing along the base of her skull. She couldn't open her eyes for what seemed an eternity because of it, and lay fighting the urge to lapse back into blackness. When the pain had lessened to that of an almost bearable ache, her senses begin to take stock of things, from the soft feel of fabric that was a blanket to the sound of light breathing to the familiar weight of her partner curled upon her heart. She felt him stir, and realized he'd maintained their link so as to monitor her. In another second he would come to, and without fully understanding why, the Oasis creature knew she couldn't let him draw attention to her yet. Thus when they opened their eyes together, and his face lit up, she moved one claw as slightly as possible to press over his mouthparts. Legs was puzzled by this, but sensible enough to keep quiet, though he shook with relief. Suddenly Junk spoke from behind them.

"Is she awake?"

The girl closed her eyes quickly and lay still again. This was answer enough for the insect, who chattered nonchalantly.

"No. My eyes were playing tricks on me."

"That is hardly surprising. A pity you can't invest in upgraded parts as I, bug."

Ottilie felt the decipede tense and addressed him via their link.

S'goin' on? How long have I been out?

Seven hours. The others are sleeping now, or at least resting their eyes.

But Jerin put 'is bot on watch so he'd know when I came to, aye?

Yeah...

She felt him nudge her chin then, and tried not to smile.

I'm glad you're awake. You really need to stop scaring me. I'd like to live to see a hundred and one, you know?

Heh, fair 'nuff...m'sorry, mate. F'I hadn't--

She broke off fearfully.

--Henry?!

He's fine. Right after you passed out and fell into that flooded passage he went in after you, along with Jerin and I. Then while that female mercenary treated you, Jerin opened the wall with the help of his robots and more or less forced that agent to leave.

Henry tried ta--wait, what?! Jerin knew how--? He jus'--an' then--?!

Calm down kitto. You lose your temper now and I'm pretty sure that'll convince everyone you're awake, which I take it is the opposite of what you want at present.

She trembled with suppressed anger, but forced her thoughts elsewhere. After a minute Legs heard resolution in her mental voice, to what task, he wasn't certain, but her initial query thrilled him.

Legs...how'd ya like ta give back a bit o'yer own ta Junk fer what he did ta ya earlier?

Do you even know me?

Aye, I do, s'why I know you'll have no trouble temporarily takin' 'im offline. I need a walk an' I don't want J followin' or--

--Time out. I don't think you should be going anywhere, you just came to!

S'pots an' kettles mate, honest, an' m'gettin' up with or without ya, though I'd prefer ta do it with ya as I see meself comin' ta more trouble without.

She nudged his head.

Please genius...? I really need a minute away...please...?

She felt him shift, and fought the urge to smile again. She could picture him, standing with his arms crossed grouchily. Finally he said.

We won't go far?

F'ya don't take the bot down now we won't be goin' anywhere 'tall. Knowin' Junk, he'll prolly scan me vitals soon an' once that happens the jigs up. Can't afford ta dawdle.

Heh, ok, I get it. One broken toaster coming up.

Temporarily broken, 'member.

Yeah, yeah...

She did smile this time. It was a testament to Legs' mechanical skills that all she heard was a soft sort of scuffling, followed by silence. Then the decipede was crawling over her forehead.

We're good.

Me heads throbbin' sumthin' awful, any magic pills left?

I think so. Hold on.

He disappeared again. A moment later she felt him touch her shoulder.

Sit up to take it. No ones noticed anything yet, or if they have, no ones doing anything about it.

Oh, thanks.

Sitting up as carefully as she could, Ottilie found she had to support her head with her knees as the throbbing increased again. Legs touched her cheek in alarm.

I knew this was a bad idea! Come on kitto, lie back down!

M'tellin' ya s'nothin'! I'll be fine once I pop this...

Reaching into her bag, she chose the smaller gourd, swallowing the pill with the amber colored liquid. She took a minute to collect herself after, reaching up to touch the back of her head. A thick bandage had been wrapped around it and clipped in place of her normal headscarf, but what startled her more was the loss of her hair. She looked over at Legs, a hurt look that needed no interpretation. He hugged her neck.

I'm sorry. It couldn't be helped.

She blinked rapidly, looking away.

S'ok...s'jus' bleedin' hair...

But he knew it wasn't ok. I have stated before that creatures admire sensibility more than beauty. While this is true, it is not to say they do not appreciate beautiful things and pay no attention to how they appear to others, especially in the case of the young. Privately Ottilie did not and had never considered herself attractive. Now with a bald patch, she felt even less so. Rising shakily to her feet, she took up her satchel and looked around cautiously. Tobias sat against the wall next to a curled up Henry, eyes closed. Aurora and Dirac reclined near Jerin, who had taken a spot closest to where Ottilie had previously lain. Near his arm Junk was sprawled over the ground, the light gone from his single eye. The Oasis creature studied her rival's closed lids. Legs poked her neck.

Much to my dismay, Junk won't stay offline forever.

Nodding, she made her way to the battered wall as best she could. Her balance was off, and she nearly tripped over Dirac, but in the end managed to slip through the narrow opening. As she continued along the path however, something zipped past her head, and she grabbed for her single weapon with a start. Ball and Jack were between her and the way forward, droning loudly. Still not all together there, the first thing Ottilie thought to do was shush them, fearful the pair's noise would rouse her adversary, Toby, or Aurora. To the surprise of herself and Legs, they acknowledged the gesture, going silent. The insect scratched his head.

They responded to a command from you? I don't get it.

She frowned, regarding the bots. They stared back, but didn't attack or appear to even consider the option. The Oasis creature crossed her arms.

I think maybe I do...lets try sumthin'...

She started forward again. Legs tensed nervously, preparing to leap at the Jack if it made a move. But the robots merely turned, following after them. He looked back at Ottilie.

What?

She smiled.

Jerin must've told 'em ta watch o'er me f'I managed ta give 'im the slip.

Great. That's not at all creepy.

Aye, s'bloody weird s'what...

But she looked down, privately pleased. For in a way, Jerin had acknowledged she possessed the ability to evade him no matter the circumstances. It meant something, being noticed...

Don't blame yourself about Henry. It was that agent.

Heh, ya know me too well mate. S'gettin' ridiculous, all this apologizin', an' m'sure it loses more meanin' each time. I gotta make it up ta him, jus' not sure how...

She changed the subject, holding a hand under the Jack as it fluttered alongside her.

S'the bot I saw earlier, m'sure o'it. Jerin's been on our tails since yesterday 'tleast.

No telling what he's planning, but I'd wager all four of my back legs it's got something to do with the treasure.

Ottilie didn't answer, overwhelmed by this and so many other factors. Henry's outburst, her part in it, the female mercenary who treated her injuries, the stoic human, all Jerin had and hadn't done so far, the agent's departure. She frowned, pausing to lean against the wall.

Legs...that agent's eyes...before I blacked, did ya see 'em?

Uh, no. I was into making sure you didn't drown.

I did...they were sorry. An' earlier there were times she seemed sad 'bout sumthin.' Wonder what that could be?

I didn't notice anything. But you usually see a lot more than I do in that regard, kitto.

Dunno. I realize we jus' met 'er an' all, but I dare say sumthin' was off kilter more'n once so I can't be imaginin' it.

Well it doesn't matter now. We'd do better to think abou--

--Maybe f'we walk a little further we'll run inta her. I don't quite feel like goin' back ta dealin' with Jerin yet anyway.

Legs scowled.

Right. Sending her away may be the single greatest thing he's ever done and you want to find her. Should I have seen this coming?

Not necessarily find, jus' keep eyes out fer, y'know? 'Sides...

She paused to rest, holding on to the wall.

...I don't think she's bad personally. Rather, sumthin' bad happened ta her.

The insect grumbled.

I'm sure she brought whatever it was on herself, if anything.

Perhaps, but I used ta bring loads o'trouble on meself too...heh, ya could say I still do, aye?

The insect looked up at her. She smiled, kneeling to acknowledge the droning Ball, to lift and nuzzle it happily as it rubbed against her cheek, thrilled to be noticed.

Then someone was kind ta me. Someone who didn't even know me, had no reason ta acknowledge me 'tall, but did. An' f'the effort hadn't been made on her part...well, it wouldn't a been the end o'me, but life wouldn't a been as happy after.

Legs tilted his head at her, responding aloud.

"I didn't know that about you."

She hushed him with a claw. At this range the others could still hear them.

S'not kickin' ta sit 'round dwellin' s'it? But m'tellin' ya now so ya know why we should keep eyes out fer 'er, or least why I should. 'Cause I saw the regret in 'er as someone saw it in me once, an' 'twould be a thing o'hypocrisy ta ignore when I know what s'like ta be alone with that.

The insect sighed, but crossed his arms with a slight smile.

Heh, you really are hopeless, you know?

She set Ball down, rubbing Legs' head fondly as she stood.

S'why I keep ya around, otherwise I wouldn't know where ta get off!

He kicked the side of her neck gently.

That might be convincing if you'd listen to me once and awhile!

She grinned at him.

Yer the best, genius.

He grumbled.

Source, Earth, and Oasis preserve me...I'll give you 'til sunset, but then we really need to get going again, got it? And furthermore, you're going to have to square with Jerin sooner or later, so take this time to get used to the idea.

Right! Bit o'a walk, bit o'talk, breaky, an' then I'll be ready, swear!

A welcome rest, lucky for him mostly unneeded. The rabbit has need dozing for the latter three hours of the break. Deep meditation for four hours was sufficient even if their next break wasn't for another three days. It was one of the few things he learned from the Mesric inhabitants that he used almost constantly, the ability to run for long periods of time with less sleep than the typical person. Though it wasn't meant for as much consistent use, and he'd been warned of consequences, until he'd met up with his new partner he'd been reluctant to lower his guard for too long. But he found himself dozing now, even though he wasn't tired. The simple reason was his charge, who was finally bandaged, had momentarily awakened not a few minutes after Toby has finished his meditation and was laying down to keep vigil over the boy. During those fleeting moments Henry had looked around, noticed he was redressed and everyone was asleep and could not see him, then settled himself as close to the rabbit as possible and fallen asleep.

It was a rare occurrence when the youth showed signs of affection towards anyone, but he was starting to do things like this more and more. Even if they were just when noone was watching, it was good sign. He let his protective instincts take over and put a protective arm around Henry, taking in the moment of normalcy in what was generally a lackluster and lonely existence. Once again catching himself hoping that maybe this time he wouldn't be left standing solo again. He didn't even bother looking up when he felt Ottilie's emotions moving, she could handle herself for now, he'd let enough happen to his friend in the name of teaching others. It was time to recover and let people think for themselves.

Toby wasn't the only one not truly asleep. Curled into an almost feline position, Aurora wasn't quite as inert as she looked. Although it is impossible for one Creature to link to another without the other's consent, Aurora had learned a trick that could almost substitue a partial link. It consisted mainly of the use of her acute hearing. More than once in her life had she carefully attuned it to the heartbeat, breathing pattern & reflexive movements a patient made whilst resting. Part of it was use of her sense of smell, learning a patient's individual scent (which wasn't always a pleasant task) and being sensitive to any change in it which might indicate the need for her attention. The most important part of her skill though, and the part that had been the hardest to master, was to put herself into an almost trance-like state so that she never fully lost conciousness. She was literally only half asleep.

As Ottilie came to, Aurora registered the change in heartbeat & breathing pattern. Opening her eyes to the narrowest slits, she focused on her patient. For a few moments nothing obvious happened. Then Junk spoke, asking Legs if Ottilie was awake. The decipede answered in the negative, but Aurora knew it wasn't true. What was going on? Her answer came when Legs left Ottilie & took Junk offline. Then she watched as the girl sat up, took some of the medication she carried, picked up her satchel & began to walk away from the group. Ordinarily Aurora might have stopped her, but she had taken stock of a few important facts. Firstly, the girl might be walking away, but she had left her blanket. Wherever she thought she was going, she meant to come back. Secondly, Legs was going with her. He seemed to be the more sensible- here Aurora paused as she considered the decipede's actions in saving herself earlier- okay make that the less reckless of the two. He'd definitely try to bring her back safe & sound. Thirdly, as she heard some familiar droning sounds, Aurora realised that Junk wasn't the only droid Jerin had set to keep watch on Ottilie. Even if anything should happen, Ball & Jack would make sure it wasn't long before the rest of the group knew about it.

As Ottilie disappeared from view, Aurora cast a slitted eye towards where Jerin rested. He showed no signs of wakefulness. Which either meant that he didn't feel the need to remain wakeful with Junk, Ball & Jack on the watch, or he was even better at concealing it than she herself was. Aurora completely closed her eyes again. Wherever Ottilie was going, the 'small allies' going with her would bring her back sooner or later & for now at least, there seemed to be no immediate danger. Settling slightly more comfortably, Aurora lapsed back into her half-sleep.

OOC: A.P.D. is short for All Purpose Device. These small handhelds are the futuristic equivalent of cell phones (and are just as common). They function as phones, WWN (World Wide Network, like the Internet) browsers, cameras, video recorders, holographic projectors, data storage units, calendars, etc. They're also highly customizable, and individual units usually have functions beyond those listed above.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Junk came back online with a start. Lifting its head, it first verified that all of its systems were operational before looking around. Once it was clear that Ottilie had vacated the premises it turned to Jerin, rapping his hand with its tail. "Wake up, master."

"Hm?" The creature queried drowsily. Junk curled around his wrist.

"It appears miss Ottilie has departed. Again."

He pushed himself to a sitting position, and stifling a yawn, remarked amusedly, "she still can't sit still even with a potential concussion...?"

The robot slithered up to his shoulder, admitting somewhat guiltily, "it was my fault. The bug caught me from behind."

"It's of no consequence. If anything had happened Ball would have returned to inform me. Let's just find her."

Standing, Jerin listened a minute before making his way to the battered wall, where he paused at the opening. Junk tilted its head at him. Rolling his eyes, he removed his vibrating A.P.D. from his breast pocket, running a claw over the touch screen. It lit up, indicating he had one new text message. Opening this, the creature noticed the source code had been scrambled, though the words were clear enough.

You can't hide, Jestwood.

He glanced at Junk. The robot wordlessly extended its tail, taking the device and maneuvering to drop into his right pocket. It would try to decrypt the code out of sight. Even if Junk couldn't, that would at least tell them they were dealing with either a skilled hacker or someone with connections to a skilled hacker. It wouldn't be much to go on, but it would be something. Crossing his arms, Jerin drummed his claws against them before turning back around to announce, "I'm off to retrieve our wayward Ottilie. I'll be right back, but if anyone would care to join me for the walk, you're welcome."

Dirac stirred, craning his head to look up at the creature. "Not in some kind of trouble, is she?"

Jerin smiled privately. "Not as of yet..."

"I'd just assume wait here then, wake up a little more. All this running by night and sleeping by day really messes with my biological clock."

"As you will. Anyone else?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It turned out Ottilie, Legs, Ball, and Jack didn't need to travel far. Though the Complex appeared to have re-arranged itself since they'd made their way through the first time, they found Elsinoire seated on the ledge of an ornately carved fountain at the end of one of the newly opened routes. By the time the Oasis creature rounded the corner the older girl already had her weapons trained on her. Seeing who it was, she relaxed, pushing an ear from her face with the tip of a laser and a frown. "What're ya doing back here, Irish? Shouldn't ya be resting?"

Ottilie shook her head. "M'ok. Jus' needed a walk..." She indicated a spot on the ledge beside her, "...mind f'I join ya?"

The older girl looked away, shrugging. "Free world, isn't it?"

Seating herself, she glanced back at the fountain. "Lovely piece o'work."

"Guess so. Never really had a head for art myself."

"Ah..." she trailed off. Jack droned at its reflection in the water conversationally. Legs tapped his claws together, finally breaking the silence with a grumpy chirp.

"I like how this is going, or rather not going. Can we leave yet?"

Ottilie shot him a look before clearing her throat, "er...gotta admit m'surprised ta find ya here. I thought ya'd be further in one direction or the other by now. Takin' a breather?"

Her answer was guarded. "I haven't decided on any particular plan of action yet, so yeah, sure." More silence. Then Elsie asked carefully. "Sprout ok?"

"Believe so. He was restin' when I came 'round." The Oasis creature said, adjusting her bandage. The agent looked down.

"Listen, I...I didn't know. I mean Blondie sort of said something before, but I'm used to being messed with. I didn't think he was serious or--"

"--With all due respect an' 'pologies fer interruptin,' m'not who ya should square with on that."

The beginnings of a scowl crept into the older girl's features. "If you came out here to lecture me, Irish--"

"--not 'tall."

"Good. Because I don't apologize. Apologies are meaningless garbage. You make a thing right by what you do, not what you say."

Legs nodded approvingly. Ottilie looked down at Ball rolling up and down her foot. "S'true. Sometimes s'nice ta hear the words, though. Lets folk know yer gonna be tryin' ta make it up ta 'em, so they're not lost ta that point an' thinkin' ya indifferent."

"That's your opinion, and even so, I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea. Making nice would only confuse them about my objectives--" she looked back at Ottilie, continuing fiercely, "--and I may be a lot of things Irish. But I'm not the kind of filth that cozies up to people before stabbing them in the back. When I jab, ya know its coming and ya don't need to wonder--"

The agent broke off, seeing her chuckle, "--why is that funny?!"

"Heh, s'not. I found one o'yer good points s'all. Makes me glad."

She regarded her oddly. "See, that's what I'm talking about, that kind of comment distorts your objectives. I mean ya told me ya wouldn't let me take your companions out of here, and then agreed to an offer that would. Ya claim to be for them, but then you're out here talking to me. So are ya really on their side or do ya have another agenda?"

The younger girl pulled an overly zealous Jack back from the water's surface some. "No agenda save ta aid 'em in gettin' through here an' ta set a good example."

"Good example?"

"Aye, fer Henry."

Elsinoire rolled her eyes. "I know I'm going to regret asking, but what do ya mean?"

Ottilie smiled again, looking back at her. "Jus,' y'know, show 'im there're good folk in the world. Behave justly, act with dignity. Set an example."

"Ha, good luck. I've seen kits like him before. They either start off or get forced down a bad path and wind up dead more often than not. The only reason he's lived as long as he has is because of Blondie I'm guessing. And who knows, maybe Blondie'll steer him off that course, but at some point Sprout will have to drive his own ship regardless. Most can't even find a decent bearing when that time comes. Moral compass is banged up by life too early to be of any use later."

She scowled angrily at her own words, leaning forward.

"Plus, you'll be with him for, what, maybe a little less than a week or however long it takes to get out of here? Odds are he won't even remember you in a few years, Irish. It's a pipe dream. Concentrate on your own plans and forget it."

"M'sorry, I jus' can't do that."

"You're in for a big disappointment then." The agent grouched. Ottilie shrugged, calling the Jack to her right shoulder with a pat.

"S'always possible. But ya never really know how yer actions affect another livin' bein.'"

She smiled warmly at the bot as it landed on her shoulder, droning a polite greeting.

"Like fightin' fer folk you've never met, or showin' 'em the correct direction on a map when they've lost their way. Like promisin' ta help a kid that doesn't believe in much o'anythin,' least o'all himself. Ya never know who's watchin' ya do those things an' what they're takin' from 'em."

She stared at her likeness in the water.

"M'not proposin' ta change the kits life. But so long as we're travelin' together, maybe f'he sees me actin' as an adult should, listenin' ta him an' bein' cheerful 'bout my lot and never, ever, givin' in, maybe he'll take sumthin' from all that, even f'its small an' I never know 'bout it. S'why I can't give up. Source knows he's prolly seen enough o'that."

Elsinoire looked away. Ottilie shifted, glancing at her cautiously. "While we're on the subject o'objectives, m'a bit lost ta yers meself."

This seemed to snap the agent back to reality. She narrowed her eyes. "What? I told you why I'm here point blank."

"Aye, ya speak o'bein' up front with others 'bout yer purpose, yet ya behaved rather deceitfully towards Toby an' brought me little mate ta harm. On the other paw though, ya could have simply shot 'im from the beginnin.' Ya could have went fer 'im durin' the brawl earlier too, but didn't. Ya even threatened that reptile that was buggerin' me..."

The agent's hands closed into fists on her knees. Ottilie tilted her head at her.

"Why speak o'high ideals an' then act on 'em only part o'the time?"

Elsie growled defensively, jabbing a claw at her.

"Stop trying to turn the tables! You're reckless! You left your comrades! You try to be fair to everyone, but in doing so you're making it impossible for anyone to trust you because everyone distrusts someone! What kind of example are you setting?! And for that matter, if ya feel so strongly about all that, why'd ya agree to my deal?"

She inclined her head to the older girl.

"I've got some work ta do on meself, s'true, but s'hardly reason ta quit. Ta the last, s'cause Toby said he trusted me, an' I wanted 'im ta know I trusted 'im too."

"Well that was your mistake. Trusting him, I mean."

Ottilie shook her head.

"Not 'tall, he's been very decent ta me thus far. I've no reason not ta trust him."

Elsinoire crossed her arms. "The decent ones are the most untrustworthy."

The Oasis creature exchanged a look with Legs, politely admitting, "m'afraid I don't understand..."

The agent stood, back to her, so she couldn't see her face.

"Because you never see the betrayal coming, so it cuts all the deeper. Because everything living is flawed, so everyone will betray you. It's only a question of when and where."

Ottilie opened her mouth to reply, when Elsie held up her hand suddenly.

"Hey, quiet a minute..."

She listened, then got down on her hands and knees, pressing three of her ears to the dirt. After a minute she stood again, brushing them off. "Someone's coming this way. Someone big."

The younger girl rose, anxiously thinking aloud, "'nother bot maybe?"

Elsinoire shook her head.

"That's why I listened to the earth. Metal and flesh vibrate at distinctly different frequencies when they strike ground. It's flesh and blood."

Ottilie bit her lip. Meanwhile, Ball slipped away, quietly rolling up the path.

"Per'aps we should hide ourselves? Jus' in case?"

The agent nodded rapidly. "After everything that's happened so far, I think that's a good idea. Come on, nights falling thankfully, but I'd still prefer a different tunnel..."

"She's right kitto. Whatever it is may be tempted to come down here for water." Legs added. Nodding to him, the pair started for the corridor entrance. Elsinoire glanced at the younger girl as they ran. Finally she spoke.

"Irish."

Ottilie looked over at her.

"If anything should happen, please let me handle it. You're in no shape to."

She was about to protest, when the agent hit her with that sad smile.

"You're an idiot, so don't go getting the wrong idea. My longterm objective is to capture Blondie, end of story. Since he's not here though, my objective for right now can be protecting an injured party." She looked away, finishing firmly. "But this'll be the last time this sucker defends a well intentioned idiot."

The Oasis creature smiled thoughtfully. "Well when ya put it so nicely, sounds brilliant. One condition. You'll need ta tell me what ya call yerself. I can't let ya handle me affairs otherwise."

The agent made a face. "Not like it'll matter, but it's Elsie."

"Elsie...ok. M'called Ottilie. An' this's Legs. S'nice ta meet ya."

"Yeah yeah, now keep quiet!"

Aurora twitched an ear as Jerin made his announcement. Coming fully awake, she stretched languidly & inquired, "did I hear someone mention retrieving Ottilie?" Jerin grinned. "That would be me," he said, "and what I was just asking was if anyone here cared to join me. Dirac has already decided to remain here. What about you?" Aurora considered for a moment before replying. Earlier she had felt no need to retrieve Ottilie, confident that the girl would return eventually of her own accord. But if Jerin were thinking of looking for her that altered things. It had not escaped Aurora's attention that, as she had half-expected, Ottilie & Jerin weren't the best of friends. Since the two had been reunited Aurora had further noticed that Ottilie was edgy & uncomfortable around Jerin. It would probably be in her patient's best interests then, to accompany Jerin on his retrieval mission. That way Ottilie might not be too discomforted, since someone besides Jerin would be coming to find her, although how much comfort she might derive from that other person being herself Aurora couldn't say.

She stretched again, rising smoothly to her feet as she did so. "I might as well accompany you," she informed Jerin, "since I'll probably not get much more sleep just now anyway. Besides, what kind of medic would I be if I didn't give my patient a scolding for wandering off like that?" Jerin chuckled at this remark. "I suppose there's that to think about," he commented, "as you will then". As Aurora wandered over to join Jerin she added in a softer tone of voice, "did I just hear your A.P.D. going off a moment or two ago, or were my ears decieving me?" Jerin's answer was carefully casual when it came. "It did indeed go off," he admitted, "but it was merely a piece of junk mail. Why do you ask?" Aurora looked to her own A.PD. that she kept strapped around one wrist like a watch. "I just wanted to know if we could get a signal in here," she admitted, "because I wasn't certain if it was possible & I've been offline since I arrived here. I've got a business to maintain after all". Jerin chuckled again. "Online mercenaries?" he remarked, "now I've heard everything! What did you say to your clients last time you were active? That you were going on holiday?"

"That's almost exactly what I said actually," Aurora replied, "I believe my exact words were 'rest & relaxation for a short yet undefined period'. And online mercenaries aren't the strangest thing to encounter on the WWN. There are retailers of the strangest merchandise, conspiracy theorists who aren't part of the P.I.A (that should qualify for a class of its own in weirdness) and even a website where people discuss famous missing nobles & celebrities & the like. And that's just a few of the things I've seen in my time". Jerin looked both amused and thoughtful as Aurora finished her statement. "There are really that many bizzare things on the WWN?" he mused, "perhaps one day I should design a search-engine specifically devoted to tracking down all things strange". Aurora smiled slightly as a thought occured to her. "I might encourage you to do that," she said, "but if it were to track down 'all things strange' wouldn't that mean it would have to tell everyone where you are?" Jerin laughed aloud at that. "True alas!" he lamented, "perhaps that isn't such a good idea after all!" Aurora nodded. "Forget the search-engines," she said, "for now let's just focus on finding Ottilie".

The rabbit waved them off, not even opening his eyes. Mainly due to a gut feeling he'd slacked off enough on his main responsibility just to try to play sage to a few people. O' could handle herself well enough.

OOC: More slang, some of it Australian this time =)

*Eat me head off means to verbally abuse or yell at someone.
*Creach is slang for Creature.
*If something is dinkum it is true or genuine. In context, Burr is saying Ottilie isn't a true Bush creature but supposes one of her parents was based on her physical appearance.
*Tall poppies are successful people or creatures. Burr was insulting Elsie with this comment ironically, only she got angry about the wrong part.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dirac remained where he was for a time after Jerin and Aurora left, but ultimately forced himself upright. Leaning his head back against the wall, he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

What I wouldn't do for a cup of coffee.

He thought, getting to his feet. He glanced at Toby and Henry. Dirac was polite and good-natured at heart, and introducing himself to the pair seemed the proper course of action despite everything that had transpired. Considering they appeared to still be resting though he decided against it. The human suppressed a yawn, his eyes drifting over the area to land on Ottilie's forgotten blanket. Scratching his beard, he retrieved it, reminded of how his own children often left their possessions haphazardly around their house. Shaking it, he folded the blanket neatly before adding it to the possessions of his small backpack. He gazed down the path then, crossing his arms thoughtfully.

Wonder what tonights got in store. Hope it's nothing too bad.

Unfortunately at that very moment a pack of large, horned rats was drawing increasingly near their position, mouths frothing with madness as they pursued a small, golden furred creature of the monkey persuasion that swung from the vines overhead, a chest clutched tightly in his foot paws. Because they were still a ways off, Dirac with only a human's sense of hearing wasn't even registering their approach. Things were about to skip 'bad' and go straight to 'worse.'

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yeah, this'll work, whoever it is might not even see the entrance because of the vines," Elsinoire commented, seating herself against the wall of the passage they'd chosen. It wasn't very long, ending only a short distance from where the agent now sat, but it was especially overgrown, perfect for hiding. Lifting an ear, she listened again, "hm...noise is fainter now, maybe he or she turned somewhere..."

"Better safe than sorry," Legs chirped softly, and Ottilie nodded agreeably, "Legs' right, we don't wanna take any chances."

"Really? You don't?" Elsie smiled, raising a brow at her. The younger girl rolled her eyes.

"Not particularly. I've met me desired injury quota fer the week I think."

"Ya d--" she frowned suddenly, "--hey, Irish, I think you're missing a robot. Didn't ya come with two?"

"Oy, are ya serious...?" Ottilie looked around. Jack droned at her reassuringly. She scowled, her next words cross, "bollocks, the little stripey one went ta get Jerin when it heard sumthin' big was on the way I'll bet. I hope anyway, otherwise he'll eat me head off fer losin' it."

"Heh, Jerin the black and white creach with the long, pointy ears?"

"Aye, s'him..."

"He's pretty intense," she agreed, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, "can't say I care for him myself, but he sure seems to think well of you."

Legs chirred testily while Ottilie looked back at her, response cautious, "what d'ya mean...?"

"What do I mean?! You're not serious with that are ya? Guy got himself shot and was the second into the water to save you after Blondie's sprout. Spends a fair amount of his time staring at ya too..." she chuckled, winking, "...it'd be cute if I wasn't also positive he's some kind of criminal."

Ottilie wrung her skirt, flustered, "oy, s'not like that, honest. He's only..." but she trailed off uncertainly. Truth be told, the Oasis creature had never been able to sum up what Jerin was to her or her life. It was like trying to describe moonlight to a blind man. Finally she said, "sometimes he's almost a friend. Almost..."

"He's no friend of mine." Legs chattered angrily, shooting her a look. Elsie raised a brow, seemingly about to ask a follow-up question when her smile faded and she shushed them, whispering.

"It's coming back..."

The group went quiet and still with tension. Shortly the ground begin to tremble, indicating the approach of Elsie's 'someone big.' Then the creatures and robot watched with varying degrees of alarm as a giant, spiked ball hurtled past their hiding place. They heard it grind to a stop not even a full twenty seconds later. The Oasis creature swallowed hard, glancing at Legs. Nodding, he scurried forward to investigate. He was gone for a minute, then returned, gravely addressing her via their link.

Bad news, kitto. It's a Bush creature, male reptilian, at least ten feet tall, all covered in spikes. I think it might be one of the Banarang Clan.

Ottilie's concern was so evident that Elsinoire gestured at her questioningly. The Banarang Clan was one of the few established Bush tribes. Banarang...the Blood Clan. She shook her head at the agent, pressing a claw to her lips. She looked back at Legs then.

S'he huntin' fer us?

He shook his head.

No, he's standing against the wall. Like he's waiting for something.

She relaxed a little.

Maybe f'we're very--

"--If yer gonna sit in there smellin' like a beaut of a meal, I'll be happy to treat ya like one!" A loud voice boomed through the passage. The girls jumped. Ottilie shivered, whispering.

"S'me, my injury's fresh...maybe f'only I--"

"--no, Irish. I said I'd deal with whatever happened, I meant it. We'll go together. Since he knows we're here, staying in this dead end passage is a bad idea anyway," she cut in fiercely, and proceeded to crawl towards the opening. Ottilie followed worriedly. Once they were back on the main path, remaining in the passage suddenly looked very good despite the dead end. The massive male regarded the girls with the same mismatched eyes as Elsinoire, the eyes of a Bush creature. He was shades of brown, red, and deep tan all over, but his spikes appeared to have been dipped in some sort of liquid metal that had further hardened them to razor sharp points. He wore only a pair of khaki colored trousers and carried no weapons, but then, the Oasis creature supposed he wouldn't need any. Weapons would be extraneous. He was like an armored tank, and once he got rolling...she shook her head, stepping forward quickly to bow.

"Evenin' big Bush brother. 'Pologies fer keepin' hidden from ya, but given the nature o'this place ya hopefully can't blame us. Me contemporary," here she pointed at Legs, "noticed ya seemed to be standin' here as if in waitin.' There sumthin' we can do?"

The larger creature chuckled, leaning down to flash a mouthful of razor sharp teeth at them. Elsie glowered at him suspiciously, pulling Ottilie back.

"Not quite dinkum Bush, but I see it in ya, sheila. Which side was?"

The younger girl inclined her head and answered, "me mum sir, born an' raised."

He nodded, and then looked at Elsie. His eyes widened, and he leaned even closer, squinting at her. She brought Ottilie behind her, growling, "hey, ya got a problem?"

He chuckled again. "The uniform threw me. Never expected to see a Dyara wearing the kit of tall poppies."

Her eyes darkened, and she jabbed a claw at him. "What did you call me? You want to insult someone proper you do it in common tongue, bub! I met a kit in here with more privates than you!"

Ottilie gripped her arm, laughing nervously, "haha, s'a good one Elsie...! She's full a 'em!"

The male raised a brow at the agent, smirking amusedly, as if he knew something she didn't.

"M'Ottilie by the way!! S'Legs, this's Elsie, an' that's me robot. Er, well, not mine but m'responsible fer it at the mo.' An' ya are?" The Oasis creature continued quickly, trying to steer the conversation away from the current subject. His eyes flickered back to her.

"Burr," his voice grew more sinister, "gotta tell ya ya smell like blood, little halfling. It's rather distractin' since I haven't had a proper bite in some time--"

Ottilie swallowed hard. Elsinoire responded by punching him in the head.

"--BITE THIS!"

Given his build the jab barely budged the male, and he only rubbed his temple a little before snarling and jumping to curl into a ball again. Legs chirped in horror, a suggestion that was taken by all not an instant later.

"RUN!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Following Ottilie's trail, Jerin and Aurora soon entered a thick fog. Both knew better than to assume the mist was natural and exchanged a look, two pairs of ears standing to attention. As there was no indication of anyone or anything else present though, they moved closer to the wall for guidance and continued on. Shortly after the Oasis renegade leapt to the side, twin needles narrowly missing his head as they pinned the fabric of his coat to the wall. Noting both the highly wrought designs etched into the needle shafts and (more importantly) the white origami flowers that served as fletchings, he called out quickly.

"I didn't know white chrysanthemums grew here!"

For a moment nothing happened. Then a soft female voice responded, though the fog made it seem to come from every direction.

"I did not know the woods could speak in jests!"

He grinned, looking at Aurora, whose ears swiveled back and forth, trying to get a bearing on their assailant. "I think it's fine. I know her."

"Perhaps that is why you only think it is fine, my dearest Jerin."

The voice responded, closer. Gradually a silhouette appeared in the fog, becoming a creature clad in the black garments of a ninja. Her fur was startlingly white by contrast, and she wore a white noh mask painted with black designs. The only bits of color on her were the violet blue irises that peeped from the eye holes. Jerin pressed his palms together and bowed graciously, "the use of fog pellets always was your forte."

She returned the bow, pushing her mask up to smile demurely at him. She was frighteningly beautiful as creatures figure beauty, snow white and ebony haired with those violet blue eyes and a flawless face. Her features were dainty and fawn-like, from her small pointed hooves to the slenderness of each ear, and everything about her exuded grace and elegance. "A thousand apologies. I thought perhaps you were someone else."

They both knew this was a lie. Kiku Cho, the White Chrysanthemum of a Thousand Needles, was one of the three core members of The Thousand-Needle Assassination Squad (so called because the formative trio all used some form of spiked or pointed weaponry). Uncompromisingly lethal to their targets and invaluable to their clients, the squad had been around nearly as long as The Lucky Seven and had even worked with them upon several occasions. Unlike the Seven, the Thousand's members tended to vary between three and twelve, as Kiku herself once put it coolly, 'depending upon the night the question is asked.' The two groups had gotten along so much as it suited their separate interests. Nowadays the price on Jerin's head suited the interests of many, though Cho was interested in him for other reasons. Slinking up close, she raised her hand to grip the needles that held his coat, tilting her head coquettishly, "I do hope your sleeve will not hold one more tear against me..."

Jerin leaned back, obviously uncomfortable with her proximity to his person. "Not at all my dear..." he gestured awkwardly at Aurora, "...this is Aurora by the way, a former student of mine. Aurora, Cho. We've worked together a few times."

Cho glanced at her, gripping Jerin's collar possessively as she sized the other female up, her greeting somewhat condescending. "Goodness, what a pretty little kit she is! I am certain when she is older she will turn many heads."

Even before Jerin introduced them, Aurora had had a suspicion that she knew the newcomer's identity. Anyone who was even remotely competent in her current profession knew of the Thousand-Needle Assassination Squad. Given her present reputation it was possible that they also knew of her, although until now Aurora had only known of them by reputation & description rather than by a direct encounter. And Kiku Cho had a very distinctive description, making Jerin's mention of her name almost unnecessary. Cho's response to Jerin's introduction however, put Aurora in something of an awkward position.

Had she & Cho met in a purely social context, Aurora might simply have done as she often did in the presence of strangers & held her tongue. People who didn't rise to a remark directed at them & to all intents and purposes seemed to ignore it were usually left alone, once people realised that there simply wasn't any response to be gained from them. However, they were both professionals, in very similar lines of work & even if Aurora wasn't there in a professional capacity, Cho clearly was. Aurora knew that Cho was older than her, for unlike the Lucky Seven- who had their hands in all manner of things and maybe a dozen different approaches to anything they did- the Thousand Needle Assassination Squad had a very consistent & distinctive style, making it easy to trace them back throught history. Their history extended back five hundred years at least & Cho's particular style marked a number of the assassinations they had carried out even back then. This all meant that Cho was both older & more experienced than herself & was therefore to be credited with respect. On the other hand, Cho had been deliberately condescending & Aurora's professional pride demanded that she redress that slight.

Aurora thought quickly. Her remark had to carry sufficient respect, but also enough of a jibe that the other female would acknowledge that she wouldn't be talked-down to.The trick, if she could accomplish it, was to arrange her words in such a way as they wouldn't amount to an insult unless the other recieved them as such. It was at times like this she wished she were better at talking with people she wasn't especially familiar with.

As she racked her brains for a response, Aurora noticed the possessive manner in which Cho grasped Jerin's collar. Her parents would've said that was the kind of behaviour worthy of a scarlet lady. In spite of herself, Aurora smiled slightly as a thought hit her. How ironic, that Cho might behave like a scarlet lady, when there wasn't a trace of the colour to be found anywhere on her! Her smile, slight though it was, didn't go unnoticed. "Why child," Cho remarked in that same condescending tone, "have I said something to amuse you?"

Aurora's smile widened as she locked eyes with Cho. Suddenly she had the perfect response lined up. Following Jerin's example, she bowed as she spoke. "This child thanks you for your generous compliment," she said, straightening up again, "but you must forgive her for seeming inappropriately amused. I was thinking of my parents- as children will when they are far from home- and of the stories they used to tell me of Jerin Jestwood. In those stories he always associated with a certain kind of lady. My mother would tell me they turned heads for all the wrong reasons. My father would always associate them with a certain colour. It simply struck me as amusing that you should act in the way my parents always said those ladies did & yet you cannot possibly be one of them. For you act with grace & elegance and the colour with which my parents would associate them is nowhere to be found on your person, and certainly you would not possibly deign to turn heads the way those ladies did!"

Aurora glanced briefly at Jerin as she finished her reply. The twinkle in his eye suggested he'd understood exactly what she'd said- or not said. As for Cho, let her make what she would of that comment. Directing her words to Jerin Aurora said, "I'm glad that you were able to be reunited with a friend of such quality, but might we press on soon? It wouldn't do for us to find one friend but lose another..."

*clink*

The sound of metal on metal echoed in his dream. Two bodies wrenched and twisting in the deadly ballet of combat. His vision was fleeting, a sword buried into his arm, and under that the thick metal of a bracer. The sword's owner flashed into view for a few moments, a stoic fox with piercing emerald eyes held the elegant weapon who's teeth bite so closely to his forearm. As quickly as it had started, it vanished as he was brought back to reality by a soft proding to his mid-section.

He opened his eyes halfway before tilting his head a little and bringing the youth's unkept fluff into view. For a moment he though he'd imagined it, but then the boy's voice came quietly. "Empty, they left us." Toby giggled, "Dun't matter, they'll be back." The younger male gazed blankly at the rabbit's shirt through slit eyes, putting a hand on it and absent-mindedly spreading and closing his fingers as if making a snow angel on the worn fabric. "I thought she was different." Tobias smirked, give the boy's shoulders a squeeze and removing himself so he could stand. "Sha'is, pretty independent though, e'la."

Henry played with the wrapping on his leg, watching the older man groan and get to his feet, popping miscellaneous bones in preparation for activity. "Why do you sleep?"

The rabbit cocked his head and looked back at the youth, "What, ya mean 'stead of meditating?"

The half-breed rocked a little and jumped to his feet, landing on the injured leg like nothing was wrong. Then falling on his rump due to the injured leg giving out instantly. "Oof! Er, yeah, It's not like I needed ya there to sleep."

The alien smirked and shifted his garments around, "Oh a'course not, don't need anyone, do ya." The lepoid snickered at his own patronizing for a moment before offering his charge a hand, "Meditating isn't as satisfyin. Gives me time with ya when ya AIN'T making a mess'a us."

The boy scowled but took the hand, a moment later was yanked to his feet by the winking rabbit. "Is that some discrete way of saying male bonding?"

"If ya consider curling up 'ginst me like a cub male bonding." The rabbit laughed back making the youth more indignant. He looked like he was about to tear into the man until the rabbit's whole body slumped. A yellow furred hand rose up to him as if to hold the wave of insults for a moment. "You're right though. When you sleep, it's the only time you're defenseless and want protection." The halfbreed's angry glare faded, "Hey." The word was weak, almost as if he didn't know how to respond. The rabbit turned backward with thoughtful eyes, "Everyone wants to be useful bud, even me."

Henry looked at the ground for a moment, then indignantly to the side, "You're always useful. I know without you yelpin' at me all the time I'd just keep fighting everyone till I pass out and die of blood lose or infection or somethun." He wandered over and stood by his older companion, leaning against him as one would a wall, "Talking stupid is all you're doing, you've been saving my life daily since we teamed up. Just because it's not in a gunfight or were everyone can see it doesn't mean I forget you do it. Those guys get to you that bad or something?"

"Nah, just need to hear it from the horse's mouth once and awhile I guess." Toby said plainly looking up at the exit.

"So, I'm a horse now?" The youth smarted off still using the rabbit as a wall.

"And a lame one at that."

"Shut up and help me, ass. Most of this is partly your fault anyway."

"I didn't tell you to try to maul a stone wall, dork." The rabbit said smiled more and letting the boy use him as a crutch.

"I'm only doing this because I have to!"

"Riiight."

The sarcastic exchange continued even as they left the room.

Dirac had left Tobias and Henry momentarily to do a bit of reconnaissance. After following the path around several turns he discovered some strange tracks. Squatting, he studied these, deep imprints made by something of considerable girth either dragging or being dragged over the ground. The human frowned, scratching his beard. It was then he heard the frenzied yowls of the approaching pack. Jumping up with a start, he ran back to the battered wall to find the area deserted. Rolling his eyes, Dirac squeezed through the narrow opening and continued along the path. Shortly he came upon rabbit and boy, both already turned to see who it was. Sprinting up to them, the human jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "We've got--"

Before he could finish there was a loud BANG from the direction he'd come. The rats had reached the partially open wall. Dirac grimaced, "--yeah. That. We need to find another route."

As if on cue, the wall on their right slid back, others re-arranging themselves behind it to form a straight path into the distance, where Elsinoire and Ottilie's voices resonated. Unable to hear these far-off exclamations, Dirac held up his hands and shook his head. "Oh no. If the Complex wants us to go this way, its gotta be certain death. I think we should look for the others..."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elsie and Ottilie ran as fast as they could from the swiftly spiraling spikes, but before long the Oasis creature begin to feel faint, the rush of blood and adrenaline to key areas of her body overwhelming her still recovering head. The agent saw her stumble almost before she did, and yelled fearfully, "IRISH!"

Bounding sideways, Elsinoire caught her, trying to continue forward in the same movement. Unfortunately this only sent her tumbling to the ground too, where she scrambled frantically to drag the younger girl to her feet even as she supposed death would come at any minute. Instead she heard Burnu bellow and strike the wall behind them. Both girls turned to look. He'd uncurled from the crater he'd driven into the wall to claw at an inflamed bump on his forehead. While they'd been running Legs had taken the initiative, maneuvered through his spikes, and stung him. Seizing her own opportunity, Elsinoire grabbed a laser and fired at the larger creature. Upon hearing the shot go off, however, he grit his teeth and curled up again. The blast struck a metallic spike, but it only simmered with the heat. The agent frowned.

Must be some sort of heat absorbing metal. As long as he can curl up, my blasts won't be able to get past those spikes...

"Elsie...!" Ottilie's weak voice brought her back. He'd started to roll towards them again, albeit it a bit slower due to the discomfort the decipede's venom was no doubt causing him. Quickly pulling one of the round silver spheres off her right wristlet, the agent cautioned firmly, "hold your breath!" and threw it at the ground. It popped loudly, releasing a cloud of smoke. Scooping the younger girl up before she could protest, Elsie swung her on to her back as she ran, leaving a coughing Burnu behind. Jack droned irritably after them while Legs leapt alongside with frenetic chirps after his partner's well-being. Ottilie waved him off, gripping the agent's shoulders indignantly, "put me down, ya can't run as fast!"

"It's fine! That's a neurotoxin, it'll buy us some time. Unless you keep hollering, then he'll just follow the sound of yo--"

"--TRAP!"

The younger girl yelped in one of her ears. Horrified, Elsie skid to a hasty stop, nearly sliding onto the off colored ground in front of them. The group contemplated this new obstruction despondently, Ottilie sliding off the agent's back. The trap stretched a fair distance, meaning jumping across was out of the question, and they didn't have time to disentangle any of the overhanging vines for swinging purposes. Thinking quickly, the Oasis creature pointed at the foliage that ran along the walls, "we'll climb o'er it!"

Legs and Elsie looked uncertain, the agent voicing their mutual concern, "can ya handle that--?"

Behind them, Burr rolled into view, still coughing occasionally. Ottilie chuckled in spite of everything, finding her footing on the right wall as she said, "yer 'bout ta bloody well find out, aye?" Elsinoire rolled her eyes and followed, scaling a suitable vertical distance before she started the horizontal climb over the trap a few feet behind the Oasis creature. Ottilie kept one eye on Burnu, "there's a chance he'll roll right inta 'er," she whispered, but the Bush creature stopped several feet short of the trapdoors, eyes peeking from the top of his curled form. Unrolling, he strolled over to the wall, and gripping a handful of vines as high as he could reach, begin to wretch them away. Barely halfway across, the girls were forced to hang on for dear life as he shook and yanked. Legs and the Jack sprang into action, but upon spotting them, the larger creature grinned, and keeping hold of the vines, curled back up. Jack clattered off his spikes, and Legs chattered angrily, moving to avoid being crushed as Burnu rolled sideways with the plants in tow, vines snapping one after the other. Gritting her teeth, Elsie said resolutely, "hang on tight, Irish."

"Wha--?!"

But before she could inquire further the agent gripped the remaining vines with one hand and unceremoniously severed the foliage between them with a blast from the laser in the other. Ottilie flew backwards with a yelp, her companion hurtling in the opposite direction. Subjected to another wave of nausea courtesy of this sudden jolt, it was all the younger girl could do to cling to the swaying vines as Elsie landed hard, and grimacing, slammed her foot down on the hidden doors. Opening upon impact, they revealed a complex water trap lit with circuitry beneath the surface. Panicking because several of the vine ends had fallen into the charged water (certain plants could conduct electricity), Ottilie released the ones she held and kicked off the wall, flipping to perform a less than perfect landing on the other side of the trap. Her legs gave out almost instantly upon impact, and the Oasis creature sank to the ground, where she could only gaze forlornly at the agent rolling to her feet across the water. Burnu uncurled, but his triumphant smile dropped as the wall to his left pulled back with a loud slam, startling all three creatures. The agent scowled, briefly contemplating the straightforward path behind it.

Where was that when we needed it...?

Something chattered close to the right side of her head then, but she told Legs, "get. Your partner needs ya." The Jack droned on her left. She shook her head to it as well, "just because she's on that side now doesn't make her a hundred percent safe. Not in this place. Go."

After that Elsie became fully absorbed in the creature across from her. He chuckled, coughing one more time, "clever girl, but my blood renders yer toxins ultimately ineffective, sheila. Now, I know ya ain't supposed to play with yer brekkie, but I'll make an exception for a Dyara."

She grinned back, "maybe after this I'll teach ya to insult someone properly. First I'm gonna turn ya into matching luggage."

With that they rushed each other...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jerin opened his mouth to respond, but Cho's delicate frame pressed against him before he was aware of it, one hand covering tinkling laughter, "oh dear, you are as observant as you are pretty, but you simply must forgive me for such aberrant behavior! You see Jerin and I were once very..." she looked up at him, batting her lashes, "...close, and I have not seen him in such a long time!"

He coughed and pressed his palms lightly to her shoulders, speaking with less of the fluid grace he was known for, "Yes, well...ahem...I do apologize for having to run like this, but we've an injured comrade wandering...well, wandering who knows where and I'd prefer to catch her before, uh...before...something happens..." he finished lamely.

The kunoichi smiled. "Oh so? I have misplaced my companions as well."

"Indeed. I was surprised to find you without--hm?!" He stopped mid-sentence as Ball collided with his heel, droning anxiously. "Pardon me--Junk, get out here!"

Junk poked its head from his pocket. "I am not yet finished with--"

He held the smaller robot up, urging it to hurry, "--nevermind. Translate."

Junk inclined its head, translating Ball's dronings, "it says Miss Ottilie re-joined the P.I.A.'s investigator. They talked, then the agent heard something large and sentient approaching and thought it best to go elsewhere. It returned to inform you."

Jerin nodded, anxiously moving away even as he spoke, "that was correct. Good job, Ball."

Cho pushed her hands inside her sleeves, gliding after him, "sentient and large, it says? That is not much to go on, but perhaps it is my comrade Burnu? We were forced to separate earlier on the understanding we would meet up again in this area. I will accompany you in case that is the case."

"Very well, do try and keep up."

She laughed softly, "it is good to know your strange sense of humor has not left you, beloved."

And so sprinting in the direction Ottilie had taken, Jerin ignored the cacophony of rabid rats and walls re-arranging themselves behind him, or perhaps simply didn't hear for focusing upon reaching the one creature who had captured and kept his interest for three years and counting...

As they pursued the Ball, following the diminutive droid back to where it had left Ottilie & the Agent, Aurora wondered over Cho's remark about having been close to Jerin. Admittedly it was possible, she herself could be considered quite close to Jerin- but in a completely different context to the manner implied by Cho. Jerin had once been Aurora's teacher & he still was a friend- at least at the moment; but for some reason Aurora had never pictured Jerin as being close to anyone- or at least, not as Cho had meant close. Perhaps she'd just assumed that his numerous eccentricities would deter potential mates- although that said, there were some who really went in for that kind of thing. Or perhaps she'd thought that his general lifestyle would work against him when it came to attracting females. But perhaps what aroused Aurora's curiosities the most was the way Jerin had reacted to Cho's presence. He had actually backed away from Cho, even if only slightly. And he had been quite obviously uncomfortable in her presence. What might account for that?

As the sounds of shouting & fighting reached her ears, Aurora acknowledged inwardly that there might well be simple explanations for Jerin's discomfort. It could well be that they had indeed once been an item, but that the relationship had ended unhappily, although that didn't seem to jibe with Cho's affectionate greeting, barring of course, that she was big enough to let bygones be bygones, but still had a soft spot for him. Or of course, it could be that the closeness Cho spoke of had been far more on her side than Jerin's, and maybe still was. Or, rather more simply, his discomfort whilst with Cho could simply be put down to his concern for Ottilie, unlikely as that currently seemed to Aurora. Thinking about Ottilie brought Aurora's attention pack to the present situation.

They had, by now, almost reached the place where the shouts & crashes were coming from. When Jerin had said that Ottilie had a knack for getting herself into trouble, he certainly hadn't been kidding! Upon awakening after sustaining a fairly serious head injury, what did the girl go and do? She went to find the agent, who seemed to be as gifted at making trouble as Ottilie was at wandering into it. Small wonder then, that there was such a commotion up ahead. Ottilie was fortunate, Aurora mused, that she wasn't the girl's family doctor. Because if she had been, then when she caught up with the girl, Ottilie would've needed her services before and after...

OOC: Hey guys, it's Cherry! Two things:

1) Like the title says, I'm heading up to Toronto sometime tomorrow and I'll be gone for a week (no internet at all because I'm not lugging my laptop up there). The earliest I'll be back online will be sometime late Friday night, August 8th.
2) I have a new account, as you might have noticed. I've been meaning to retire the other for a long time but only just got around to it this week. From now on I'll be making posts from this account, and all questions, concerns, etc., regarding this play or otherwise should be sent to this account. The only reason I might log in to my Cherry account again is if I need to edit character profiles or edit a previous post made with it (or maybe for other unforeseen reasons I don't know / am not thinking about at this time), so make sure you don't send messages to that account any longer as I probably won't see them for weeks or months or however long. ALSO, yes, please just call me Jess =) it's my name and I quite like it.

I think that's about it =) hope everyone has a pleasant week (off =P)!

OOC: Sorry for the delay, guys. I had insane writers block and am just now getting back into the swing of things. Hopefully the results aren't too terrible and Gem'll be able to do something with the second part if she wants to.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elsinoire zipped under Burnu's arm as he swung at her, slugging his right leg smartly in passing. He grunted, removing his fist from the crater it had made in the wall to get back on the defensive. They circled each other, the larger creature grinning at her, "pretty quick for such heavy bones, sheila..."

The agent narrowed her eyes, hiding her surprise behind raised fists.

Now how in the name of the Source does he know about my bones...?

She pushed the thought aside, breathing evenly.

This guys good. Under different circumstances I'd really be enjoying myself. I gotta end this quick, though, before Irish regains enough of her insanity to try something stupid on the pretense of helping me out.

She snuck a glance at Ottilie across the water trap. The younger girl still appeared to be out of sorts, her face hidden against her knees, claws resting motionless and tense on either side of her hunched form. Jack droned, nudging her left hand, and Legs chattered worriedly, patting her neck. Elsie caught it in the jaw then, Burnu's punch sending her flying into the wall. She shook stars from her eyes, maneuvering quickly to avoid his grasp as he went after her neck. Stumbling back, the agent chid herself.

Idiot! Focus! Ya can't shoot without rendering him immobile first, he'll just keep curling up and you'll be wasting energy on those spikes. His skins pretty tough too, all you're doing right now is giving him bruises. Ya need a new strategy...think, girl!

"Should a broken yer jaw with that one," Burr grinned, advancing, "guessing yer neck bones ain't any less dense, so looks like I'm gonna have to strangle ya."

She wiped a bit of blood from the corner of her mouth with a wry grin, "yeah? Good luck, champ. I'm not only the P.I.A.'s fastest draw--"

The agent ducked swiftly and came up behind him, "--I'm their fastest, luckiest, and fiercest field operative!"

Irked, Burnu whirled to find himself confronted with that same confident smile and two fingers that beckoned boldly, "and you are ten thousand light years ahead of yourself if ya think I'm gonna lose to ya!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jerin flipped the chalkboard over with a loud bang, startling the students who were already seated as well as the few still arriving. It was the first time any of them had seen him noticeably perturbed. He pointed at the notes written on the other side, saying sharply, "take these down."

Puzzled, the class removed their tablets and begin to copy what was written, the literary history of The Last Collector, an Oasis legend. Normally Jerin opened new lessons with a series of humorous remarks, readings, etc. He rarely had his students simply write in silence. And yet, here he was, leaning against the window sill, arms crossed, mouth set in a tight, annoyed line as he stared across the room at nothing in particular. He remained this way even after the taps of pens on screens had faded and an expectant silence set in. One young creature coughed awkwardly. Finally Jerin sighed and nodded at Vanya, "Miss Vanya, if you would be so good as to summarize this lamentable fairy tale the board is forcing me to teach?"

Despite the tension present in the room, Vanya cast a smug look at Jeanne a few seats down. She viewed the girl as her intellectual rival, and was always pleased when their professor chose to address her over Jeanne. Pushing several strands of hair back into place with a flourish of her hand, she spoke confidently, "The Last Collector is among the more famous stories said to have come out of the mythical Oasis--"

"--Pardon. Yes Matteo?" Jerin addressed a dark haired human who had raised his hand tentatively. He seemed embarrassed when he spoke.

"I'm sorry sir, I don't mean to interrupt Vanya, but I'm unfamiliar with the term 'Collector.' It's difficult to find any books or excerpts on the Oasis, and even then the written history is often unreliable and in-cohesive..." he finished guiltily. Jerin's gaze softened, and he shook his head, gently saying, "not at all, young master. Would someone who is familiar with the term care to enlighten Matteo and those of you who weren't as brave as he in admitting your lack of knowledge?"

Matteo smiled gratefully at his teacher, who winked at him. Fearful of having her spotlight stolen, Vanya spoke up quickly, "I can, Professor!"

Without waiting for a response, she dove into her explanation, "supposedly within the Oasis there existed a select few creatures that occupied the position of Collectors. Gifted with a more than thorough understanding of mechanics and technology, it was their duty to venture into the outside world and investigate the construction of machinery, explosives, etc., that might have potentially damaging effects on the Earth or create unsafe amounts of backlash. Is that correct so far?"

She queried, breathless. Jerin inclined his head, smiling thoughtfully, "...as I remember it, yes. Continue."

"If a Collector discovered such activities were going on, he or she would dismantle the offending product or products as well as dispatch the offenders. Collectors could also be 'called' by the Source directly, and were rumored to have been in tune with it to the point where they often ventured into perilous situations before the rest of the Oasis was even aware something was wrong--"

"--Does this relate to the Rule of Three?" Thad interrupted, glancing at Jerin. His professor nodded, "indeed. Upon the discovery of planetary backlash and Earths acknowledgement as a living planet, the Source made many polite suggestions as to how we could best live our lives to the fullest, though it ultimately left us the freedom to choose. The only thing it desired in exchange for our continued existence here was that we treat it with the respect and courtesy due any other living being. Among creatures, one of the polite suggestions that came to be known was the Rule of Two--"

He ticked the points off on his claws, "--you shall kill to eat--you shall kill to keep from being killed. For the Oasis born though, the Source had a supposed third rule. You shall kill to eat--you shall kill to keep from being killed--and you shall kill to keep those who would do me harm from killing me. Collectors especially existed to enforce this third rule."

He looked back at Vanya, urging her onwards. "The story."

She nodded, "The Last Collector follows the final days of the last Oasis Collector. He was an especially gifted individual, demolishing and eliminating more devices and beings than all those who came before him. It is also said he brought the kinetic motor (among other inventions) to the outside world and instructed any who would learn from him in its construction and use. Within ten years of his presence in the world it was completely free of unstable machinery and those who had wanted to create it. He was the toast of high society--"

Here she sighed dreamily, "--and of course it was every young females desire to be his mate!"

Several of her fellow students groaned, and Jerin quirked a brow at her, smiling in spite of himself, "really, such a comment from you, Miss Vanya?" The fawn-like creature giggled, shrugging, "sorry sir, but it's rather romantic, don't you think?"

"As I re-call that story ended anything but romantically."

Vanya frowned, "indeed, unfortunately, he grew arrogant, and thinking himself more clever than the inhabitants of his home, secretly sold the coordinates of the Oasis for a favor unspecified. But when the proprietors sailed to the supposed 'location' of the sacred isle, there was nothing for miles but open water. Infuriated, the ships captain sent the Collector overboard and sailed off, leaving him to drown."

Thad chuckled, "got what was coming to him, eh?"

Vanya rolled her eyes, "really Thad, its supposed to be a tragic cautionary tale! Don't smile about it!"

"Guy basically gave up paradise for some sort of worldly possession or favor? How is that not funny?"

"Hilarious," Jerin said dryly. Thad looked up at him, "c'mon prof, out of everyone here you're most likely to back me up on this. Comedy over tragedy, right?"

"I didn't realize I'd grown so predictable in your estimation, Master Thad..." he trailed off, smiling bitterly, "...in my humble opinion, it's both. Though, I daresay few ever really got the punchline or the joke."

Before anyone could inquire further into this, he pressed smoothly on, "now, why don't you kits get out of here early? It's too nice a day to spend in this stuffy auditorium, and I know several of you taking my practical street performance elective have your midterm evaluations at the end of this week. Think of this as extra time to prepare, if you like..."

Everyone cheered, and relative normalcy returned to the room as the class rose and collected their belongings, chatting with each other as they did. Amidst the hustle and bustle, Jerin returned to his desk, where he begin to gather his things absently while Junk looked on...

OOC: Here we go, next post up! Let's see where you guys can take it from here. And apologies in advance for the length of this post!

IC: The crashing & shouting got even louder as they drew ever closer. Even as they did so, Aurora had time to notice that Cho kept close to Jerin, no matter the pace they travelled at. It seemed that, after having not seen him for so long, Cho wanted to capitalise on his attentions. Even as the thought manifested itself, it called up from the depths of Aurora's memory recollections of another fawn-like Creature, perhaps not as sensationally alluring as Cho, but who had nevertheless been beautiful & who had sought hard after Jerin's attention. Dwelling on these similarities, Aurora cast her mind back to the Laplacian Academy as it had been ninety-three years ago...

After a long silence Jerin sighed & nodded at Vanya. "Miss Vanya," he intoned, "if you would be so good as to summarize this lamentable fairytale the board is forcing me to teach?" As Vanya pushed several strands of her long hair back into place- with quite a flourish- she cast a smug look at Jeanne (as Aurora was then known) who sat a few seats down. Jeanne, for her part, kept her expression impassive. She knew that Vanya saw her as a rival of sorts, both for intellect & for Professor Jestwood's attention. It was a source of ongoing bemusement for Jeanne. This stemmed mainly from the fact that she knew one of the reasons she recieved as much attention from Professor Jestwood as she did was that he realised she was quite shy, however it may appear to others, and was trying to bring her out of her shell. Perhaps another reason was that, in addition to the usual student-teacher relationship, they had become quite good friends & people naturally pay attention to their friends. However, not everyone was privy to these facts & so it was entirely possible that Vanya thought that Jeanne had somehow earned a favoured status with Professor Jestwood through her academic skills & wanted to be on equal- if not superior- footing.

As Vanya expounded her knowledge of the tale of the Last Collector, Jeanne listened whilst still musing over her odd position in the other girl's eyes. It was probably a waste of time trying to commandeer Jerin's attention, because Professor Jestwood was doubtless sharp enough to see that that was what Vanya was trying to do & would continue to ditribute his attention as he saw fit regardless. As for rivalry with herself, Jeanne bore Vanya no ill will & might have even discouraged it. But if their rivalry- more real to Vanya than herself- drove Vanya to excel & helped Jeanne to keep her own academic edge sharp, then she was content to let it continue.

Jeanne looked up as the rest of the class gave a collective groan. Vanya had just made a typically romantic remark. Professor Jestwood quirked a brow at her, smiling in spite of himself. "Really, such a comment form you Miss Vanya?" he remarked. Vanya giggled as she replied. "Sorry sir, but its rather romantic don't you think?" Professor Jestwood's smile faded somewhat as he answered, "as I recall, that story ended anything but romantically". Vanya frowned. "Yes, unfortunately..," she began. Jeanne listened whilst Vanya continued her recital. She was familiar with the tale from her own childhood & Professor Jestwood was right about its conclusion. As Vanya concluded her recital, Thad spoke up. Jeanne listened to their differing views of the tale, perking her ears up when Thad asked their professor to comment. "I didn't realise I'd grown so predictable in your estimation Master Thad..," Jerin informed him. He trailed off, a smile on his face that seemed a touch bitter to Jeanne's eyes, before continuing, "...in my humble opinion its both. Although I daresay few ever really got the punchline or the joke".

Jeanne wondered what that might mean. Before anyone could question him about it though, Jerin was already dismissing the class, pointing out that it was too fine a day to be stuck inside & that this would be a perfect opportunity to get some practice in for their midterm evaluations in regard to the practical street performance elective. As the rest of the class cheered & dispersed Jeanne walked over to where her professor was clearing up his things in an absent manner. He looked up as Jeanne drew near. "And what can I do for you today?" he asked, seeing the question in her eyes. Jeanne wasn't entirely sure how to broach the subject she had in mind. She hesitated, one hand automatically going to weave a strand of hair about her finger. Knowing by now what this gesture meant Jerin smiled. "Come on dear girl; spit it out," he said. Jeanne smiled shyly back at him as she complied. "You- uhm- you don't really like tales about The Oasis much do you Professor?" she said. Jerin gave her a quizzical look. "Whatever leads you to that conclusion?" he asked. "Well," Jeanne responded, "the way you conducted today's lesson was a clue".

"Perhaps I simply don't like teaching fairytales to intelligent young students?" Jerin suggested. Jeanne shook her head. "Actually that seems to stand in contradiction to everything I know about you just now," she told him, "unless you're trying to be unpredictable again. You've taught us about fairytales, their importance & their value plenty of times. You've taught us about folk-tales & fairytales from all over the world. From everywhere, in fact, except The Oasis. I could put that down to there simply being not enough material around for lessons on that subject. But you're a Creature, so you'll have been taught the tales since you were a kit, so you could've supplied notes on them yourself for those who lacked them. That also rules out lack of familiarity with the tales as well. And the one time you do teach on The Oasis, you keep the lesson to the bare essentials & then dismiss the class early. I'm afraid that the only conclusion I can come up with is that you just don't like Oasis stories much Professor," Jeanne concluded. Jerin gave her a considering look. "Most fairy tales I can live with," he admitted, "but not the ones about The Oasis. They seduce whoever listens to them into fantasizing over a place which initially sounds plausible, but which a closer look reveals to be lamentabley untrue".

"So you don't believe in The Oasis then?" Jeanne asked. "You do?" Jerin said by way of a reply. "I'm not certain," Jeanne responded, "but I'll tell you what: One piece of folklore I do know about is the legend of the Phantom Village of The Dreaming Spire. It's said to appear only once a century; one hundred years to the very day after it first vanished & it has been sighted century after century reliably on schedule. The last time it was seen was the same year I was born. So, in seventy-three years time I'll go out to The Dreaming Spire & see what I can see. Once I've seen what there is- or isn't- to be seen, I'll let you know what I make of The Oasis legends". Jerin chuckled. "Very well," he said, "until then, then, you may leave my last question unanswered".

Back in the present, Aurora wondered what Vanya was doing now. Was she still treading the boards? Was she telling her great-grandchildren what life was like when she was young? Was she dead? Aurora shivered slightly at that last thought. The simple truth was she had no idea how long Vanya's life span was- or had been. She might well now be musing over someone who was long dead. She brushed that thought aside as another loud crash echoed down the passage. Enough dewlling on those who might be dead, it was time to focus on the living...

OOC: THE MAIN CAST BORES ME. Lets take it elsewhere =D

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A fair distance from the current troubles of creatures, lepoid, half-breed and human, a ball of fluff stirred, its owner awakening within a scoop he'd dug into the rocky terrain for additional warmth. Uncurling, Sir Meyniel stretched languidly, squinting at the setting sun through his fingers. He was an extremely small creature, so short he wouldn't have reached past Ottilie's knee even when he stood to his full height, and the varied physical features of a pomeranian, a fox, and a goat made up his appearance. Colored reddish brown with white markings, he possessed a long, turned up snout, slim horns that poked through holes in the helmet he wore, sharp black hooves, a fluffy tail that curled upon his back much like a squirrel's, and small, twinkling brown eyes. He wore breeches striped in Algos' colors of gold and white, a shining breastplate made from a lightweight, white-gold metal over a cream colored undershirt, matching shoulder guards, bracers, and helmet, and carried a long, heavy lance that was three times as tall as he. Mey took this instrument up now from its place at his side, balancing it midway over his right shoulder and abandoning the campsite he'd chosen to continue his search into the twilight. Despite his size and the pompous ridiculousness it and his outfit gave him, he walked tall and proud, whistling cheerfully to himself as he went. His ears perked, but it was not they that had first alerted him to the fact that someone had been and was following him.

Sniffing the air, his keen sense of smell informed him his stalker was closer than before. Meyniel stroked the tufts of fur that pointed out from his cheeks thoughtfully, finally speaking in a loud, somewhat high pitched voice, "I say, milady! It's not well done, following a knight of the realm as though thou hast something to fear from him. Had I wanted to have at thee, I would have done so when my nose first informed me of thy presence these three days past!"

He paused, turning to glance at the empty path behind him with a smile, "thou needn't speak to me of course, but neither should thou assume that because thou art quiet thou goest undetected..."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OOC: And finally, here's our last NPC. He won't be making his entrance into the main for a little while yet, but I figured I'd check up on him, see what he's doing (read: practice writing his vernacular), and give Gem something to do with a secondary character she's been planning on bringing in.

Name: Sir Meyniel
Species: ??? (Creature)
Age: 37 Years Old
Occupation: Knight of Algos / Head of Prince Icosian's Personal Guard
Personality: Loquacious and cheerful, Meyniel makes up for his small size with a larger than life personality. He has impeccable manners, is attentive to protocol, is seemingly imperturbable, and possesses a heartfelt desire to see justice done to all.
Backstory: Meyniel is the pint-sized leader of Prince Icosian's personal guard and his only friend aside from his great grandfather. He cares deeply for the boy, and will do whatever Ico requests of him without question. Guards and knights alike mocked him at first because of his size and appearance, but Mey persevered to the point where he has garnered a certain amount of fame throughout and beyond the kingdom of Algos. He and Dirac have a great deal in common, as both excel in their chosen professions and stand mostly alone against the ridicule of others.
Skills and Abilities: Meyniel is more than proficient in the use of his long lance, possesses surprising strength for his size, a superior sense of smell, and a great deal of personal charm.
Priorities: Assisting Ottilie in acquiring and bringing the treasure back to Algos, fulfilling his duty to Prince Icosian, and helping those in need.

OOC: I am in fact Gem using another alt. However, as I explained, I'll be using this alt whenever I play my secondary character. Speaking of which, on with the RP!

IC: In the shadowy twilight of the Eulerian Complex, beyond Sir Meyniel's keen field of vision, an attentive set of ears listened to his call. A pair of intense, vividly green eyes, the shade & colour of emeralds regarded his diminutive form. The eyes & ears both were, of course, attached to the stalker Sir Meyniel had just addressed. Despite the knight's entreaty, no vocal response was forthcoming. The owner of the eyes & ears was distrustful of people, even people who sounded well-intentioned. Whilst the genial knight didn't sound very intimidating, his stalker was well aware that if everything that was dangerous seemed dangerous, no-one would go near it. Nothing would be gained through incaution. After standing for a moment & recieving no response, the knight sighed slightly, turned & proceeded upon his way. For several moments after the knight had left his campsite, nothing stirred in the corridor. Then, a figure emerged from the shadows.

At first glance, anyone might have taken the knight's pursuer to be a human girl, no older than sixteen. Closer inspection of this 'human' though, would reveal certain telltale signs that indicated otherwise, for those that had the eye to see them. The first sign was the girl's ears. Although no larger or smaller than those of any normal human girl, they differed from the norm in shape. They were pointed, giving her an almost elven look. The next sign was only visible when she opened her mouth. She was certainly no vampire, but her fangs were rather more developed, more pronounced, than those of a regular human. The third sign would be her nails. The nails on each finger- and toe too, had her toes been visible- were somewhat denser than those of a regular human & had an odd, pointed shape to them. This was because each nail was, in truth, just the tip of a retractable claw, which when extended added at least a further two inches to each digit. The final sign was the way the girl moved. Perhaps it wasn't as obvious as the other signs, but an attentive observer would notice that she moved with an uncanny, predatory grace. Also such an observer would see that her movements were possessed of a supple flexibility that was almost feline. No human moved like that.

Beyond these signs, the girl's overall appearence suggested that she was both wild & dangerous. She wore toed boots, that made her already soft footfalls softer still. Strapped to her back was a set of twin wakizashis, in pristine condition & ready for use. The broad leather belt that was strapped around her slender- almost lean- waist held a holster over each hip. Inside each holster, one of a set of twin pistols, of curious design & make was housed. Her clothing consisted of a skirt that ended a few inches above the knee, underneath which she wore a tight set of leggings. Whatever garments she wore upon her torso were concealed by body-armour, which, whilst definitely mechanized to an extent, had a distinctly barbaric look to it. Her arms were bare, revealing skin of a slightly dusky bronze shade. Her face looked to be (as we would describe it) a pretty mixture of Oriental & Native American, despite an extremely wild expression. Her hair was dense, falling to just past her shoulder-blades & was a highly glossy blue-black colour. There were a couple of slim braids in it, which fell beside her ears, though for the most part her mane was held back from her face by a red bandanna, which she had inexplicabley felt the urge to buy one day. Upon her hands she wore a thin set of fingerless gloves.

The girl's name, though of course the knight was not privy to this fact, was Heather. And the scent that emanated from her, the scent that had first alerted Sir Meyniel to her presence, was the scent of the wilds. The scent of pine needles, fresh resin, bracken & bluebells, wild berries & other such scents, all rolled into one. The truth was, that to reach the Complex, Heather had had to trek a considerable distance across the wilds, which she had done with the constant pace & unflagging endurance of a wolf. Reaching the point where the knight had stood, Heather considerd his words. He'd said it wasn't well done to follow a knight of the realm. Heather knew it was well done, because she'd seen it done before at certain festivals & processions. He'd called her 'milady'. Vaguely, Heather wondered what a 'milady' was & how it applied to her. It hadn't sounded like an insult, but she couldn't be certain. She muttered softly to herself under her breath. It was a habit she had developed. Partly she did it because she had no-one else to talk to & partly to distract herself from the walls all about her. Heather hated confined spaces. She was okay in towns & even cities, she was also okay if she was on the move, or stopping to rest for a night. But apart from those circumstances, Heather couldn't stand confinement. She muttered some more, her mutters incomprehensible to all save herself, for the language she used was unique to her alone. There was a definite sense of...something coming from somewhere within the Complex. Heather knew that she'd certainly find it if she kept going. The knight seemed to be headed in the same direction, though Heather didn't know if he sensed it as well. For the moment, she'd keep following where he led, whether it was well done or not, for at least he seemed to be content to let her keep to herself. Uttering another soft murmer of her strange language, Heather continued her pursuit...

OOC: Updated. Here's the bio. Apologies for turning this post into a giant!

Known as: Heather Jay Jessop
Species: Creature/Human hybrid
Gender: Female
Age: 16 years
Relationship Status: Single (militantly)
Occupation: Tinker/ Vagabond/ Barbarian (these are the better titles she's had!)
Personality: Heather has a whole mountain of issues, thanks to a traumatic start in life. She is generally distrustful of people & avoids contact with them as much as possible, preferring to dwell in wild, lonely areas. However, staying in the wilds too long has the adverse effect of making her desperately lonely for any intelligent company. Her current method of maintaining balance is by working as a tinker. This way she travels through the wilds (rather than on the roads) hardly seeing another living soul & gets brief periods of contact with people when she stops to sell her goods. Although she's normally calm & relatively pleasant, she can be enraged if anyone directs an insult at her which she interprets as a jibe at her laboratory origins. The terms 'freak', 'mutant' & 'monster' are to be avoided. Best left unmentioned are the terms 'lab rat' & 'lab animal'. She is clever & capable, but lacks any formal education & fear of recapture by her creators has led her to develop a slight paranoia. Her vividly green eyes, coupled with the scant occasions others have seen her rage manifest itself, has led to her earning the nickname 'green-eyed monster'- although this is never said to her face of course. Underneath all her issues though, Heather is probably quite a sweet girl, who just wants the stability & security a proper family could give her. The problem with that is that Heather has no idea what a proper family is, let alone how to go about getting one. Her voice is quite beautiful, but she speaks with a fairly harsh accent.
Likes: Solitude, fresh fruit & veg, travelling, mechanized arms & armour, her weapons, sketching ideas that come to her, making money.
Dislikes: People, any jibe at her origins (real or imagined), discrimination, being poor, Boss Houiri.
Natural Abilities: Where looks are concerned, Heather would appear to have inherited almost exclusively from the human side of her biology, in almost every other respect she seems to have inherited exclusively from the Creature side. All her pysical capabilities & her primary senses are much closer to the Creature standard than the human. Astonishingly- for a hybrid- she has never had so much as a cold in her life. Her vision, whilst encompassing the normal spectrum of visible light, has a slight overlap into the infra-red & ultraviolet. This isn't to say that she has 'infra-red vision' or 'ultraviolet vision', she simply has an overlap that normal humans don't have & which sharpens her night vision, although not beyond that of your standard Creature. She is also fully, naturally ambidexterous.
Skills: Although she has no thorough formal education, Heather has been taught certain things. She can read & write proficiently & has the skill & discipline of a highly-trained combatant. She speaks three languages, English plus two other trade-tongues. Actually, she speaks four languages, since one of her greatest achievements (or it would be if anyone knew about it) is developing an entirely new language, of which she is the unique & only speaker. Like Jerin, she has a talent for mimicry, although living in the wilds means that she can mainly mimic bird & animal calls rather than people's voices. Although she is perfectly capable of unarmed combat, she is familiar with weapons of all kinds, mechanized weapons holding a particular fascination for her. She also has a talent for magic.
Weaknesses:Besides the huge number of issues alluded to earlier, Heather's two main weaknesses are lack of the key factors any skilled craftsperson needs: Knowledge & experience. Although she has an intuitive understanding of the making & maintaining of weaponry, she has no proper training in her craft. Her knowledge of mathematics is sketchy, although thanks to her trade, she has an excellent understanding of market values. Similarly, whilst possessing a talent for magic she is- to use an apt metaphor- like a Tinker beside an Artisan when compared with any of the 19 individuals capable of working true magic. Her methods are makeshift, consisting of trial & error, half-measures & rule-of-thumb. This understandably makes any magic she attempts very dangerous. Similarly, whilst she is extremely proficient in the use of her weapons, since she has a tendency to use combat as a means of venting her pent-up frustrations & emotions, Heather has been known to use excessive force whilst fighting.
Backstory: Heather was created by Boss Houiri 16 years ago, as part of an attempt to create a superior breed of Creature. Although an astonishing success for a hybrid, hybrids weren't what Boss Houiri wanted & so he viewed her as a failure. Having escaped six years ago, during an assault upon Houiri's territory by rivals of his, Heather has remained free largely because Houiri believed she was killed during that assault. She has lived a nomadic lifestyle ever since, 'Techno-Barbarian' perhaps being the best epithet to apply to her. Having heard that there is a treasure of great value in the Eulerian Complex, Heather has resolved to find it & sell it for a price, even though she has no idea whom she should sell it to or what its true value is.
Weapons of Choice: When not using whatever's to hand, Heather's primary weapons are a twin set of wakizashis, the work of a master swordsmith. Thanks to the fact that one has a dragon design etched into the blade & the other a phoenix design, she has named them Fang & Talon. Proud of her blades, she maintains their pristine condition zealously. Her secondary weapons are a twin set of pistols, which she has made entirely herself. They bear her personal trademark upon them, the Chimera Rampant.

OOC: I'd just like to mention Gem wrote the couplet below =)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sir Meyniel continued along the path with a spring in his step, humming lightheartedly. He thought briefly on his silent stalker, which brought to mind an old and fairly common nursery rhyme his mother had taught him in his youth:

Jerin soft behind thee treads, look back thrice and thou art dead.
But close thine eyes and count to three, and Jerin thee never more shall see.

Meyniel wondered (as he sometimes had) what manner of villain the fellow referred to within the rhyme had been. Unlike many, the knight believed Jerin Jestwood existed not only in legend but in fact, for all legends spring from a degree of truth. He paused at a split in the passage then, where it became apparent he would have company other than his stalker shortly, as from the direction he intended to take a number of varied scents drew closer. Soon he heard laughter, and pushing his helmet up, watched as a trio of human men rounded the far corner, talking in earnest with each other as they came. Smiling, he hailed them, "good evening, gentlemen!"

Startled, the leader looked down at him, frowning, "you scared me half to death, stranger."

The creature chuckled, pushing his helmet back to look up at the man, "terribly sorry, but might I inquire if thee and thy companions have been coming from this direction the whole time?"

The human exchanged a glance with his fellows, his answer guarded, "yeah, what's it to ya?"

Mey's smile widened hopefully, "capital! I'm searching for a certain maiden--" here he paused to rustle in one of the pouches he wore on either hip, "--and I worry that perhaps I've missed her." He held up a photograph of Ottilie he'd printed from surveillance camera footage of the palace, "perhaps thou hast encountered her?" The man leaned down, studying the picture, but shook his head.

"Sorry pint size, haven't run across the likes of her. But it's a big place."

The knight sighed, visibly disappointed, turning the photo around to look at it himself, "I see. Dreadfully sorry to have kept you then--" he tucked it away, bowing elegantly, "--and my most sincere thanks, tradesmen."

The leader narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "how did you know we were tradesmen?"

Meyniel smiled, winking and tapping the left side of his nose. "not only tradesmen, my good man--" and here he pointed at each of them in turn, "--but a baker, a butcher, and a bookkeeper."

The man to the bakers left, a skinny fellow with blue eyes and glasses who Mey had proclaimed a bookkeeper exclaimed, "why sir, Source strike me down if you have not matched every man here with his exact trade!" His friend glared at him, "don't encourage the little busybody, Tarren."

The knight chuckled, holding his free hand up, "my apologies, I meant no offense. But thee and thy companions smell of thy trade tools faintly. No doubt the wilderness thou hast trekked through has tried to take the scent, but it remains as a testament to thy dedication to thy work."

The third man, the butcher, spoke up then, "and who are you, sir? I recognize your garb to be that of a guard or soldier of some kind--?"

The baker broke in, still glaring, "--I too recognize it as belonging to Algos, our beloved sister city."

Sir Meyniel frowned, shifting his weight awkwardly, "ah, thou art of Rithm..."

An uncomfortable silence set in with this statement, finally broken when the knight shifted again, addressing the butcher, "...ahem...thee and thy companion are correct, in any case. I am Sir Meyniel of Algos."

The trio regarded him dubiously, and the baker smirked, "heh, yeah, and I'm Jerin blinking Jestwood."

Mey chuckled good-naturedly, "thou may and will believe what thou wishes of course, but I address thee in all seriousness."

"You slew the serpent that was terrorizing the outer countryside?"

"Indeed sir, at the request of his highness Prince Icosian Lovasz Cayley Calculus the third."

"You fought a hundred Metallurgicans single handedly?"

"Not at all sir, I had two working hands and several worthy companions."

"You defeated the bandits that set up camp in the Murkwoods?"

"Again, at the request of my liege, sir."

The baker scowled, shaking his head, "you'll forgive me if I take your answers with a grain of salt, sir knight--"

"--Bern," Tarren the bookkeeper cut in nervously, "come, it is unseemly for gentlemen to behave in this way."

"Algos has no gentlemen," he responded irately. Meyniel positioned the hand that held his lance more deliberately, for now it seemed at any moment there might be a fight. Luckily, Tarren persisted, "just suppose he actually is Sir Meyniel. Even if he isn't, we need to keep moving. If you please."

Bern grunted, but waved Mey off with a final glare, "consider yourself lucky I've a family to provide for."

The knight nodded to them, tipping his helmet to Tarren especially, "all the best, gentlemen. Do watch thyselves further in, I've run across several large grub-like insects in my travels that I believe to be poisonous." With these words they parted, moving in opposing directions. Sir Meyniel continued in silence for some while before removing the picture he carried again. He smiled back at Ottilie's smiling face, thinking aloud.

"I daresay thou hast a divine sort of pleasantry within thine eyes, milady. I think it would be quite something to know thee..."

He sighed, lowering the photo and tapping his claws against his weapon worriedly, "...I only hope thou art not detained by peril of some sort..."

In the shadows behind Sir Meyniel Heather did her best to become part of the wall, watching warily as the three humans reached the split in the road where the small knight stood. Why were there so many people in a place like this? Even as the thought came to her an answer asserted itself. Probably because they were also trying to find the treasure. It was the same as the market-places she had visited: if a truly remarkable item was available for purchase, everyone tried to grab it first. She crept forward ever so slightly, ears open, to better hear what passed between the knight & the newcomers. The new group seemed to be wary of the knight, but Heather could tell that if it came down to it, they would be little match for him in a fight. Despite his size, he carried himself with an air of confidence & professionalism that suggested he was completely familiar with his weapon & its use. The others, as far as she could tell, might have weapons somewhere on their person, but they probably had no more experience with them than the average person.

She listened as the conversation began. The knight was looking for someone. He introduced himself as 'Sir Meyniel'. Heather's eyes widened slightly at that, for the name wasn't completely unfamiliar to her. Her respect for the small knight went up several notches, for she knew he was telling the truth. She had heard too many liars- good & bad- to miss a spoken lie. There was no insincerity in the knight's voice, so he either was who he claimed to be, or believed he was. Heather decided on settling for the former, it was more in keeping with her 'proceed with caution' approach. The group didn't seem to believe him, one retorting that he was Jerin Jestwood. Heather narrowed her eyes at that. These people shouldn't be so quick to take such a name to their lips, nor so scornful of it. Unknown to either Heather or Sir Meyniel, both had this much in common: they believed in the existence of Jerin Jestwood. For Heather, it wasn't because of a wistful desire to believe fairy-tale characters were real. Nor was it down to years of careful study, resulting in an overwhelming probability of there having been an actual Jerin. No, Heather's reason for believing in Jerin as a real-life person was rather more simple than that. She believed Jerin Jestwood was real because Boss Houiri believed he was real. In Heather's experience of Boss Houiri- something she fervently wished she had far less of- Houiri wasn't given to belief in myths. Houiri believed in facts & results & harshly punished those who didn't produce the latter. Houiri. The name alone brought such emotions bubbling to the surface as Heather had difficulty controlling. With an effort, she focused on the group before her again.

The three men- tradesmen Sir Meyniel had called them earlier & linked each one to his exact trade- were recounting, with some incredulity, the knight's past exploits. Heather listened, her repect for the knight increasing again. Slew a serpent? Fought a hundred Metallurgicans? Defeated the bandits of the Murkwoods? She had been right in her initial appraisal; the small knight was dangerous. But, it seemed, he was currently no threat to her. Despite the fact that he had his back to her? Either he was supremely confident of his abilities- admittedly there was some justification for that- or he was quite trusting of her. Heather believed it was a mix; he felt capable of dealing with her should she become a threat, but trusted her enough to let her remain at his back. She almost admired his unmerited faith in her, for she knew she would never have been able to place the same faith in anyone. The conversation seemed to be coming to its conclusion & Heather pressed herself more firmly into the shadows as the three men passed by her hiding-place. Mere humans, she thought to herself, they hadn't even glanced her way. A Creature would definitely have paused, at least momentarily. She resumed her shadowing of Sir Meyniel as he set off again, humming & whistling to himself as he went. At length he retrieved the picture of the person he was looking for again, looking it over before speaking aloud to himself. "I daresay thou hast a divine sort of pleasantry within thine eyes, milady. I think it would be quite something to know thee...". There was that word again, 'milady'. Heather had glimpsed the photograph to which the knight spoke earlier. She doubted that, if he used the strange word of the person he intended to find, a person he certainly bore no ill-will towards, that it could be an insult. "I only hope that thou art not detained by peril of some sort...," the knight continued, claws tapping against his lance. Heather wasn't sure if she felt the same, since if the person he sought were detained it would mean less people seeking the treasure.

She wondered briefly what the girl in the picture was after the treasure for. Probably the money. It was true that Heather wanted the money that the sale of the treasure could get her, but what she really wanted was the security she felt that money could buy her. Silent but resolute, she continued to shadow the knight...

OOC: Had to go in another new direction because I have the attention span of a goldfish. As always, if any of this doesn't work for you Gem shoot me a note and I'll adjust accordingly.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite dangerous creatures closing fast behind him and one potentially hazardous pathway in front of him, Dirac couldn't say it was the first time he'd been between a rock and a hard place. Being employed by Boss Houiri a little less than fourteen years tended to have that effect on a body, and comparable incidents ran together in his mind, so numerous and equally catastrophic that nothing really stood out. But somewhere among the times and the places and the individuals responsible there had been a little girl, a mirror, and a book about flowers...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"...I got your book back. No one will take it away again," Dirac informed the space between a large, square mirror and the wall. He stood within a rectangular room, a room that had always seemed more in tune with needles, medical supplies, and hospital examinations than the pursuits of childhood. There were new bruises on his face, punishment inflicted for a transgression unspecified, and he carried himself straighter than usual to hide any and all evidence of recent injury. He held his axe in one hand and a small book in the other, the latter the sole colorful object in the space. On the cover a sprig of heather was illustrated beneath the title 'My First Flowers.'

He waited, but there was no response to his statement. Nodding finally, he leaned to set the book down on a low table, adding quietly, "I'm not sure if you had a chance to look at it, but it's about flowers." He flipped the pages slowly, "roses, daisies, lilies, columbine, and my favorite, heather. Like on the front here. That's heather."

No response again. Dirac straightened, "I'll leave it here for you." His task complete, he moved to resume his post in front of the door across the room, where he stood stoic and silent once more. To go into greater detail about the space the mercenary found himself in, it was bright, clean, and completely devoid of color or ornamentation (as I've mentioned). The furnishings included a small bed made up with linens bleached white, the low table alongside a single chair, a higher sink in one corner (for doctors to sterilize their hands), another door in the far wall that led into a bathroom, and the mirror that leaned near it. Behind this a tiny girl crouched, the individual the human had been charged with guarding for several months now. She hadn't spoken to him once in all the time he'd taken the post, and more often than not hid either behind the mirror (as she did now) or under the bed when he entered. He'd always supposed she possessed the ability to speak, for she seemed too observant to have not picked up on a few things. The mercenary knew she wasn't mute at least, as she screamed when the doctors came for her and cried out when they hurt her. This isn't to say she was malnourished or mistreated of course, on the contrary, Houiri valued her so much so that she ate better than half of his closest sub-bosses (certainly better than Dirac) and was constantly bathed, examined, and attended to. Still, she was not allowed to leave her room except to be exercised or else poked and tested, surveillance cameras watched her from every angle, and no one paid attention to her without purpose. Houiri himself treated her more like a precious trinket than a living thing, a fact best evidenced by her own stark belongings, which were (to the human's knowledge) three identical white smocks she wore interchangeably and the same collar as his strapped around her neck (though he saw the last more as a punishment than a possession). Now she owned a book as well, though Dirac wasn't exactly sure if she was aware of the fact or understood that anything could belong to her...

As Sir Meyniel continued on his way, his shadow continued to follow behind him, listening with interest to the tunes he hummed & whistled. He seemed very cheery & Heather almost felt inclined to join his whistling with a few tunes of her own. But she restrained herself. Openly declaring her presence might be a bad idea. After all, even if the knight didn't seem to mean her any harm, what else might there be nearby that wasn't so friendly? Besides, you couldn't trust people; people were treacherous as Heather knew only too well. The best of them might have ulterior motives & the worst of them always had a hidden agenda. And even the ones who wanted to do you good might not be able to protect you from what you really wanted & needed protection from. Like Houiri. Houiri. Thinking the name stirred up bitter memories, that hadn't been buried long enough for Heather's liking. Almost of its own volition, her hand went to her neck, the fingers gently tracing the flesh there as they recalled the collar that once hung upon it. She paused momentarily, closing her eyes as a wave of those unpleasant memories washed over her...

OOC: No problems here =) and more flashback because I'm interested enough to run with this a few posts. That said, feel free to leave your response open to another response from Dirac if you feel inclined, Gem.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dirac had been among Heather's many guards for seven months now (in-between his other assignments), and as their time together grew so too did her library. The mercenary had faithfully produced a new children's book every few weeks since the first, and Heather had faithfully stockpiled them under her bed, mattress, and pillow. It soon became apparent to the human that her pillow was the preferred hiding spot, with books containing detailed mechanical drawings tucked carefully underneath. Reacting accordingly, he begin to bring her mechanics manuals as well, until Houiri chastised him and removed any that might give his unnamed creation even a hint as to how locks and surveillance cameras worked. Dirac wasn't sure if it was the nature of the things given, the gesture itself, or his continued presence therein, but the girl also seemed to be getting more comfortable with him, or at least comfortable enough to remain in the same space without hiding (though she kept her distance and occasionally still had bad days that drove her back into the shadows).

However, in spite of the aforementioned progress the pair had yet to exchange words, not only because Heather wasn't initially receptive, but also because Dirac held himself from her as he did from everyone. There were times, for instance, when she would edge towards him and he would respond by ignoring her or looking away. And while it was true that the mercenary was protective and kind to her out of more than just a sense of professional obligation, he wasn't a fool. He knew if he overstepped his boundaries there would be no warning, only beatings, and he got quite enough of that as it was. Besides, things would certainly end badly for both of them should the girl come to depend on him for anything other than books.

Oddly enough, the day Dirac went against his own feelings about the matter marked a positive turning point in his career. He entered Heather's room for his usual shift to find her visibly absent. Concerned, he knelt on the ground at his post in front of the door to peer under the bed. Nothing at first, then she nervously poked her head over a barricade of books. He smiled, addressing her in his quiet way, "hey slug," a slug, he'd explained to her several months ago as she'd read about firearms, was another name sometimes given to a bullet (shotgun especially), the piece that would never return to the gun once fired. 'A slug is special,' he'd said, 'because it accomplishes the task the gun was created for. Without it, the gun is useless, a fact people often forget or don't acknowledge.' He'd called her slug on his good days since, as he did now.

She didn't answer, and he started to sit back up, then grunted, a hand lifting automatically to press against the lower part of his ribcage. He forced a smile across his face, waving this off good-naturedly, "heh, won't be bending like that again for a bit."

He swiveled to a sitting position carefully, holding up a small bundle, "I brought you something different..." he knew from experience this wouldn't be enough to bring her out of hiding if the day had been particularly bad, but something compelled him to try. He unwrapped the bundle, continuing, "my wife--" he paused, unsure if she would know the word in a place where creatures were predominant, "--wife, that's like mate for my kind. My mate bought my oldest little girl some clothing recently, but one of the dresses was too small. She was going to take it back--"

He produced the garment from the wrappings, a cute knee length dress with braided straps, the same color as Heather's emerald eyes, "--but I told her it looked just your size."

He held it out, "summers coming, and it'll definitely be cooler than those smocks. Boss said it was fine, so if you like it, it's yours..."

OOC: Finally did up a decent description of Houiri here as well as some location information for those inclined to know this stuff.

*The Azures or The Azure Waters are the Ocean(s). Creatures refer to all oceans as such regardless of location (no Atlantic / Pacific, etc.).
*The Black Market is a bar run by Jerin's Seven brother Fury. It changes locations every few months and is among the best Underworld locales to gather information from.
*The Carnival at Masque is a hub of delirium and activity located in a large section of the dangerous city of Masque. Carnival is another excellent place for criminals to meet and exchange information on the premise of riding ancient rides and eating overpriced cotton candy. It was originally a kitchsy sort of amusement park frequented by Jerin. His presence drew those who wanted to discuss business ventures with him, and eventually it came to the point where anyone who was anyone in the Underworld would organize their affairs therein. Today it is run by and overrun with criminals.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dirac sat against the wall, silently watching Heather practice some of the new techniques she'd learned from the mysterious instructor Houiri had found for her. Several months had passed since they'd first spoken, and they talked often now. Surprisingly Dirac found he did most of the talking, answering seven years worth of questions the girl had kept from even her teachers. It made him smile, her curiosity, for she reminded him of his dear Pertelote, who he spent a great deal of time missing (and perhaps would have missed more had it not been for Heather's presence). The months had also marked improvements in his employment that both thrilled and worried him. He was given more shifts with Heather, sent on fewer dangerous missions, and paid increasingly well. The only thing he could link these positive changes to was the progress in his interaction with the child. She was willing to sit closer to him, talked more and smiled more. He knew Houiri must have something up his sleeve, which was all well and good so long as credit continued to make its way into the mercenary's hands, but if his plans involved Heather in any negative connotation Dirac couldn't bear to think of it. He frowned, forcing the anxiety from his expression as the girl turned, her questioning look all too familiar to him.

"Dirac...who is Jerin Jestwood?"

This caught him off guard. He leaned forward, concerned, "where'd you hear that name...?" Heather stretched, seating herself at her small table, "the others. When they were changing shifts one said that getting a promotion around here was about as easy as finding Jerin Jestwood."

The mercenary grunted, leaning back. He knew as much as anyone else about the villain in question, which was to say a handful of rumors, generalities, and stories that seemed more myth than fact, but felt it wasn't the stuff appropriate for a child's wild imagination. Then again, the idea that someone else might fill her head with scarier imagery if questioned didn't thrill him either, so he finally said gently, "Jerin Jestwood is only a figure from old creature stories. He's not real."

He saw Heather tense as he was speaking, but Houiri's voice still startled him despite this visual warning, "oh but he is, pet." The human looked up to find his employer peering around the door, a wry smile spreading across his features. Houiri was a tall, thin creature, light grey in color with white markings. His fur was quite long, albeit it neatly kept, and a pair of whiskers trailed from either side of his pointed, rat-like snout. His ears were tiny and mostly hidden under fur, and his hands and feet were gnarled with age and hard work. His eyes were the worst part of him in Dirac's opinion. No irises, no pupils, only twin orbs of a pale yellowish color stuffed into sunken sockets. The human had no idea if he could even see out of them. It seemed he could, for he required no aid in getting around. In any case, they bothered him a great deal. Houiri crossed his arms over the lab coat he wore, entering the room without invitation (not that he needed one). Remembering himself, Dirac moved to kneel, bowing his head and resting his axe at his side. Heather slunk behind her mirror, peering at her creator from the shadows. He didn't seem to mind this, continuing.

"Jerin Jestwood is quite real. I've seen him with my own two eyes, a merciless, vicious, wily rogue that has catalysed events the effects of which have been felt throughout the entire Underworld. There are myriad rumors about him, most of which I believe to be factual entirely or else based on fact. These include but are not limited to the following: he can make miracle machines out of only a handful of screws and spare parts. He can track and find anyone anywhere via his connections. He can convince an individual that his own possessions do not belong to him and escape from a tank buried in sand hundreds of feet beneath the Azures. The Black Market was built for him and the Carnival at Masque exists as it is today because of him. He consorts with individuals of every social class, from Empresses to assassins, and an assortment of famous Underworld figures besides. His best friend and brother in arms, for instance, was the Pirate King, Captain Fafnir Corsir, who's airship is said to be Jerin's greatest engineering triumph..." he chuckled, "...not that anyones ever been able to catch it to investigate that, of course."

He glanced at Heather then, smiling maliciously, "he also hunts and eats bad little children who disobey their parents and guardians--" he leaned down to regard her, grin widening, "--he eats them alive."

Dirac drew his attention away from Heather worriedly, "c'mon boss, you'll give her nightmares..." he added, "...she'll be harder for you to deal with during tests if she sleeps poorly."

His employer drew back at this, "hm..." he seemed oddly distracted, and departed soon after, though the human knew better than to relax and assume his transgression would be forgotten. Turning back to Heather, he spoke reassuringly, "never mind what he said, slug. Even if Jerin Jestwood or someone like him was real at some point, he's long dead by now. Don't waste another thought on it, ok?"

The girl smiled at Dirac & nodded her head. This seemed to confirm to Dirac that she would follow his advice & waste not another thought upon Jerin Jestwood. His expression became more relaxed & the tension that had arrived with Houiri eased. The girl hadn't stopped thinking about Jerin Jestwood though. Not at all; because now she knew he was real. Although Dirac had said that Jerin Jestwood was probably long dead & that she shouldn't think about him, the girl had pieced together enough from the conversation to see that that wasn't necessarily true. Firstly, Boss Houiri had said that Jerin Jestwood was real. Only, he hadn't said it past tense, he'd said that Jerin Jestwood is real. Of course, he might simply have said it present tense because Dirac had said Jerin Jestwood isn't real, but the girl couldn't be certain of that. Secondly, Boss Houiri had claimed he'd seen Jerin with his own two eyes. The girl had no doubt that this was true. This made her doubt that Jerin was long dead. Partly because if Houiri had seen him, he couldn't have been dead that long. Strangely, it was also partly Houiri's own age that made the girl believe that Jerin might not be dead. After all, if Houiri could live to such a great age- she'd heard rumours here and there that he was hundreds of years old- then couldn't other Creatures do the same? If they could, then wasn't it possible that a Creature from old legends might still be alive today? Finally, Houiri had told her that Jerin hunted bad little children & ate them alive. That, she had realised, was an attempt to scare her- which hadn't been entirely unsuccessful. But the very fact that he'd told her something like that- essentially that if she wasn't good Jerin Jestwood would get her- suggested to the girl that Houiri still thought of Jerin as someone who is rather than someone who was. That meant that Houiri had no good reason to believe that Jerin Jestwood was dead & usually if Houiri believed something- as far as the girl knew- then that something was true.

It was not long after this that the girl found out another interesting fact about Jerin Jestwood that was entirely too close to home for her liking. During a lesson with one of her teachers- whom the girl would gladly have exchanged for Dirac any day- there was an unscheduled interruption. One of Houiri's soldiers had come in and announced that there was a situation elsewhere in the building that required her teacher's special expertise. The teacher had been rather more perturbed by this than his pupil, but he had gone with the guard, leaving the girl alone in a locked room with nothing but his computer for company. The girl had decided she would use his computer to surf the web & had been preparing to do so when she noticed which file was open: The file upon herself, upon her progress. Since her own knowledge about herself was limited she decided to take a peek. There were lots of pages in the file. As she looked at the page count, the girl realised that a lot of the pages probably talked about things she did each day. She didn't need to know about them. But how had she come to be in the care of Boss Houiri to begin with? The answer to that was probably on page one. The girl clicked the number, instructing the computer to go there. A moment later the page flashed up. The girl read the first part of the first line & stopped. There was the name Boss Houiri always called her by: 001-JJSP. Only the page told her more than that. The JJSP part of the name Houiri called her was just initials. In brackets, immediately after it mentioned the name she had heard, the full name was spelled out: 001-JJSP (001-Jerin Jestwood Superior Prototype).

The girl stared at the words, dumbfounded. Then ventured a look at the words which followed on from them. 'This subject,' the girl read, 'was created from a sample of DNA modified by Boss Houiri personally. The donor he acquired this DNA from- the parent if you will- was, Houiri tells us, no less than Jerin Jestwood himself'. The girl continued to stare at the words. Houiri had always claimed to be her creator & guardian, but the girl had never really given any thought before, to who her parents might be. She understood, to some measure, what a parent was of course, thanks to her education. Whatever details she lacked, the girl knew the following: People, like machines, didn't just come from nowhere. They had to be made. And to make anything, you needed raw materials. That was where parents came in; they contributed some of themselves- some of their material- to the development of a new person. Usually the new person was left to develop inside inside the womb of the female, but sometimes scientists had a hand in developing it. Generally, once the new person was fully developed, the parents got to keep it until it became an adult. The girl considered what her full name meant. To be 'superior' meant to be better or greater than something. She was meant to be better than Jerin Jestwood. Given what Dirac & Houiri had told her, the girl didn't think this would be too hard, since Jerin sounded like a terrible person. However, the girl suspected that her idea of 'superior' and Houiri's might be different. In one of the books she had read about firearms she had seen two weapons that looked almost identical, but one had been described as a 'superior model'. That had meant that the weapon possessed greater firepower, had a longer range, and could fire shots faster. If Houiri was thinking along those lines then...she was meant to be a more terrible monster than Jerin Jestwood. The implications of this nearly overwhelmed her, until she remembered another word: 'prototype'.

A prototype, the girl knew, was the experimental version of something, the one that was made to test whether or not whatever you were testing would work the way you wanted it to, or if it didn't work, or would do something unexpected. She had been made to be more terrible than Jerin, but no-one knew whether she would be or not. She might turn out completely different. That gave her hope. Before she could dwell on these things any further, she heard the sound of her teacher coming back. Returning the file to its previous page, she was back in her own seat before the teacher came in the door.

Later, in her own quarters, the girl thought about what she had learned. Jerin Jestwood was real, his blood flowed in her veins. He was her parent. He might be her parent, but he wasn't her father. The girl knew what a father was because she spoke to one very often. Dirac was a father, and the girl knew he was a good one. She could tell by the way a smile appeared on his face when he thought of his wife, by the way his eyes lit up & by the tone that came into his voice when he spoke of his children. Maybe he could be her father? The girl reluctantly pushed that thought away. She would never have a father as long as Houiri was in control of her life. He wanted her to be more terrible than Jerin Jestwood. No, the girl thought, he wanted her to be superior to Jerin. Better. And she was the prototype, so things might go wrong. The girl came to a decision. She would be better than Jerin Jestwood, but by her definition of better, not Houiri's...

OOC: I'd like to mention I'll be wrapping things up here for the time being and re-joining the main cast very soon (like within one or two posts soon). I also just got a new job, so if I'm less active that's probably the reason. Finally, more on another location.

*Metallurgica is a military city that possesses highly advanced technology / weaponry and is Algos' greatest rival. Ico's father King Lovasz is frequently away at the time of this story ensuring Metallurgica doesn't attack Algos while they're weak and war torn.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour or so passed without incident for the small knight, who spent it searching what he'd established to be the main route as well as all of the miscellaneous paths that connected to it. His actual progress through the Complex was rather slow, but each area he left he left confident that Ottilie was not present therein. He was leaning down to study some curious tracks when the first shot went off, and it was all the creature could do to dodge and scurry for cover as more followed. A well-placed bullet to his right hoof created a strange and not altogether pleasant vibration, and another to his arm made him wince. Once safe around the corner he assessed the damage. His hoof was fine, the bullet having left only a small mark thanks to a coating of protective sealant his mate had developed, but his arm told a different story. Meyniel frowned, touching the wound that leaked red fluid grimly.

I think it's safe to say the shooter meant to take my life. Still, a knight has to be absolutely certain about matters such as these, and a handful of bullets hardly tell a complete story...

He looked around then. Heather was lost to view (wisely, given the gunshots), but his nose told him she was still in the area. Fearful for her safety, he faced the direction her scent was coming from and indicated she should remain where she was with a raised paw. He didn't know if the girl would listen, but his arm needed attention rather immediately, so he had to leave it at that. Rustling in his left pouch, the small creature addressed his shooter in a loud, indignant voice, "I say old thing! It's not well done, catching a fellow off his guard like that, and with bullets no less! Now you just better jolly well sing out and explain yourself or I'm going to have to assume you mean to kill me!"

A male voice answered, attempting to sound non-threatening, "I do apologize sir, I mean you no harm. I was only trying to frighten you away in case you meant to kill me. Please come out so I may offer a proper apology."

Mey was not one to take a life lightly, but neither was he foolish, and the speaker's accent was not unfamiliar to him, "you'll forgive me for questioning your explanation, good sir, as you unloaded considerable rounds for only meaning to 'frighten me away' and hit vital points not once, but twice, as if aiming for them--" he set his lance down, continuing, "--however, I will take you at your word if you throw out your weapons and emerge as a show of good faith, which you sound far too generous to deny me."

His answer came, more a growl than actual words, "I would love to, honestly, but you see, the reason I was shooting at you is that I'm injured myself and can't move a muscle! Won't you come and help me? I'm very badly injured..."

Sir Meyniel responded calmly, producing a small, cylindrical mechanism with a metal loop attached to one end from his supplies, "dreadfully sorry to hear that, old bean. I can imagine how you must feel. Seeing as you've proven yourself more than capable of moving your trigger finger muscles however, you won't mind if I treat my own limb before aiding you? Otherwise I should be of no use at all."

The fellow growled again, "not at all. Take your time."

"Capital. My advanced apologies for anything unpleasant you hear, removing a slug isn't exactly the sort of pastime one can keep quiet about..." he pushed several buttons on the side of the canister. A slot slid open, and out shot a tiny robot armed with whirling wings and a pointed snout, no wider than the creature's pinky nail and beetle-like in appearance. Wide set yellow eyes flickered into focus, and detecting the bullet, it dove into Mey's wound with dutiful blips and beeps. At first he was able to bite his wrist guard and keep quiet, but the agony the searching beetle-bot created eventually had the creature crying out in pain as he'd predicted it would. In addition, another of his predictions came true in the form of a sound, that of a pair of feet advancing.

"You come round that corner, sir, and I'm putting my lance straight through your body!"

The knight yelped as the slug shot from his arm, sullied beetle fluttering after. The sound persisted. Mey growled softly, taking his lance to his good limb, "as you will..."

A fox-like creature dashed into view, mottle furred and camouflaged in Complex foliage. He grinned triumphantly, aiming an impressive gun before his expression turned to one of shock and horror as the small knight's lance whizzed through the air, pinning his body to the opposite wall. His weapon flew from his grasp, firing into the overgrowth before clattering uselessly to the ground. Sir Meyniel pressed his now free hand to his wound, standing gingerly. He regarded the dying soldier with a degree of severity, but tipped his helmet to him nonetheless, "you rolled in dirt and covered yourself in Eulerian greenery, well done. I couldn't smell you. It's lucky I've met many Metallurgicans, otherwise I might have thought you truly were in trouble." He sighed, waiting until his assailant was well on his way back to the Source before reaching as high as he could to retrieve his lance. He was wiping it when he heard more voices, and turned to stare down the corridor with a frown. Five similarly clothed and camouflaged humans and three creatures were coming towards him, all brandishing guns of the same make as the dead creature's and calling, "what's keepin' ya Ca--?" They were clearly surprised to find their comrade had fallen and not his opponent as the gunfire before seemed to have indicated. A dark haired human bearing the marks of a Lieutenant started, squinting at the knight before yelling excitedly, "that's Sir Meyniel of Algos! Kill him and you'll be famous!"

They charged, firing wildly as the creature took off. He grumbled, clumsily scooping up the cylindrical device he'd set down earlier in passing and securing the attached loop around his lance, beetle-bot flitting alongside, "the idea that someone would want to be famous for killing someone else is utterly...utterly...contemptible." The tiny robot beeped agreeably. The only good thing about the situation (as Mey saw it) was that his pursuers were too busy focusing on him to notice his shadow. He ran past her hidden form without a backward glance, and thankfully, so too did the eight behind him. Unfortunately injured as he was they soon caught up. "Drop your weapons!" The Lieutenant barked as they surrounded him, aiming their guns in practiced unison to indicate they meant business. The knight did as instructed, but stood to his full height afterwards, interjecting smoothly, "gentlemen, please! While I admire your intentions to do right by your fallen brethren, disposing of me so quickly would hardly be a fitting tribute! Besides, from one professional to others, you'd gain far more notoriety in hand to hand combat with me!"

This made several pause, and a stoat-like creature turned to their leader thoughtfully, "...Prince did want 'im 'live f'we could, right?"

It was then Meyniel noticed Heather's boots creeping behind the group. He smiled as the man retorted sharply, "don't be a fool! We shoot him here, we shoot him now, and that's th--"

Heather was brooding over old & unpleasant memories as she walked & had been for some time, but she snapped back to the present fast when the bullets started flying. Ducking for cover in the gloom, she assessed the situation. The bullets hadn't been aimed at her, but at the small knight ahead of her & some seemed to have found their mark. She saw him get to cover & heard the gun fall silent as its target disappeared. Despite having sustained a substantial wound to one limb, the knight hadn't forgotten about her, raising his good arm to indicate that she should stay where she was. Heather hadn't been about to present herself to the unseen marksman as a bonus target, but she appreciated the gesture. She listened as the exchange between marksman & mark began. The marksman's accent was that of Metallurgica. As a Tinker, Heather had travelled there often enough, seeking favourable deals. The city was hardly her favourite, but quality technology- primarily in the form of arms & armour- could be gained there for much less than elsewhere. The accent also told her that the marksman had been shooting to kill, since as a rule, Metallurgicans didn't waste good rounds on warnings. The expression on Sir Meyniel's face said he knew that too, even if he kept it from his voice. Therefore, Heather wasn't surprised- though she was impressed- when the knight skewered his would-be assassin the moment he rounded the corner. Before she could begin moving again though, she heard the approach of a group of people. The marksman hadn't been alone. This was confirmed when a Metallurgican accent announced Sir Meyniel's identity, along with the suggestion that killing him would earn the group notoriety. Heather watched impassively as the knight ran past her hiding place, closely followed by the Metallurgicans. With his injuries, he would not evade them long. He would die in this place- unless she intervened.

Rising to her feet, Heather followed after the knight & his pursuers, silent as a ghost. Perhaps, she mused briefly, if circumstances had been different, she would have done nothing. If it had been an agent of the Complex that had attacked the knight Heather might well have left him. After all, everyone who entered the Complex ran an equal risk of encountering its deadly defences, herself included. Had it been but one more opponent Heather might have left the knight to fend for himself. For even wounded, she was certain he was still more than capable of one-on-one combat. Even though there were eight Metallurgicans pursuing him, Heather might still have left him to handle them himself had he not been wounded. After all, he'd fought over a hundred Metallurgicans before; what were eight more to him? But she had reasons for staying, reasons for helping the small knight. He was wounded and outnumbered, he needed something to swing the odds in his favour. He'd not let on to the Metallurgicans that he wasn't entirely alone. Finally, he had demonstrated a trust in herself that Heather found remarkable. She couldn't leave him without showing him that his trust wasn't- entirely- unmerited. She was close now, she could see that the Metallurgicans had him surrounded, could hear his words as they floated down the passageway towards her, buying himself those extra moments. Though he hid it well, she could tell that he'd seen her silent advance. He was standing proud and tall- or as tall as he could- the very image of a knight prepared to meet death. Heather smiled a humourless smile as she made some preperations of her own.

Reaching up to her right shoulder, Heather grasped the hilt of her first wakizashi & drew it; easing it as gently as possible from the scabbard to avoid making any sound. A coiling Sunlands dragon was etched into the surface of the blade, glimmering faintly as Heather brought her arm down again. Fang rested lightly in her right hand, drawn & waiting. She reached up to her left shoulder & drew her second wakizashi. A phoenix was etched into this one, poised in mid-flight & ready to strike. It sparkled slightly as Heather slid her arm back again. Talon nestled cosily in her left hand, the hilt snug against her palm. Now she was almost ready. She began to lope forwards, her choice of blades over guns indicative of her nature: Heather liked to get in close to her target. As her soundless lope sped up, she remembered the lessons her instructor had given her years before. The method many use to fight, Heather heard him say in her mind, is to completely calm & empty the mind. They cannot allow themselves to feel emotion whilst they fight, for emotion has the capacity to ruin calm, disrupt equilibrium & cause mistakes. To feel emotion during a battle can cost such fighters their very lives. But, he had said, that is not the method I shall teach you. You, he informed her, I believe, have practiced repressing your emotions enough as it is. They are there, inside you, emotions that are bottled up & have nowhere to go. I shall teach you how to release them. Her lope increased in speed again, the memories flashing faster behind her vividly green eyes. The method I shall teach you, her instructor said, was once used by a famous- or infamous- race of barbarians. Having once achieved a state of calm, they took all their emotions- all their courage, fear, hate, determination,- everything & they allowed it to mix into one great, nameless emotion. They were like oil on water, calm on the surface but with this all-encompassing emotion coursing through them, burning like the brightest of flames. They took that power the emotion gave them and- a deadly blur as her instuctor's hand flashed through the air- they unleashed it against their enemies! That is what I want you to do. Take the power of your pent-up emotions and use it! There are no people in your path, only obstacles between you and your target. Your target must be reached & any obstacles eliminated! As Heather's lope became a run, she could feel that nameless emotion building inside her, lending power to her limbs. Taking two steps more she leapt into the air, releasing a barbaric battle-cry as she did.

The human who had been in mid-speech was cut off by that cry. Heather had been moving as she released it & the odd accoustics of the Complex corridors picked up the sound, amplifying it as they did. The effect of this was that the sound went on and on, echoing and reverberating, building rapidly into a bellowing roar that seemed to come from all directions at once & that could've startled a dragon. Though it doubtless carried for miles, Heather's interest was only in the effect it had upon the group of Metallurgicans she was now directly above. The results were as she had hoped. The respective members of the group gave a collective start, their guns twitching away from Sir Meyniel, their eyes frantically scanning the darkened corridors, desperately searching for this new threat in every direction. Or nearly every direction. It is a strange truth that, when looking for a threat percieved to be close by, people almost never look up. So the group of Metallurgicans didn't see Heather as she arched through the air over their heads, didn't see her land gracefully as a hunting cat. Or rather, didn't see her until it was far too late & she was amongst them. Heather struck with her right-hand blade, Fang cleaving the Lieutenant's gun in two with a downward sweep. Then, as the human swiveled his head back round, Heather brought Fang back up, lancing into the man's torso & sliding neatly between his ribs. Heather pulled Fang clear, the human collapsing as she did so. She had deliberately avoided the heart & hadn't run her victim completely through, but he'd be much less dangerous with a punctured lung. A second opponent ran up, a powerful-looking Creature with heavy jaws. Heather stepped forward to meet him, her left-hand blade flickering out to meet her opponent's right-hand. The flat of Talon's blade struck the Creature's wrist, stunning his hand & causing him to drop his weapon. Bellowing he lunged down at her, the jaws agape. Heather ducked, the jaws snapping shut in the space where her head had been & thrust upwards with Talon. The blade pierced through the flesh beneath her opponent's chin, spearing cleanly through his tongue, the soft palette at the back of his throat & eventually emerging at the crown of his head. Withdrawing her now-crimson blade, Heather nimbly sidestepped the Creature's corpse as it crashed forwards & looked for her next opponent.

Another human ran to engage her, but even as he did so a Creature brought its gun to bear upon Heather. Planting one of her sullied blades in the ground beside her, Heather used her free hand to grab the arm with which the human struck out at her & twist it viciously behind his back. Then, as the human bellowed with pain, she forced him to take two steps forward as she stepped behind him, in the same instant the Creature pulled his trigger. Her hostage instantly became a human shield, the bullets intended for her pummeling into him. Then, as the Creature ceased fire, horrified at what had happened, Heather put her full weight into pushing the corpse towards his one-time companions. It flew forwards, crashing into one of them & forcing that one to collapse. Heather retrieved her blade, taking stock as she did so. One wounded, two dead. That left five to contend with. Before she could plan her next move, two of the Metallurgicans charged towards her. Suddenly though, one collapsed, a lance appearing as though by magic in his torso. The knight had reclaimed his weapons & was back in action. Heather smiled a ruthless smile & turned her attention to the one the knight hadn't claimed. He was now very close & quickly getting closer. Noticing the texture of the ground beneath her feet, Heather kicked out, sending a spray of dust & gravel into her opponent's eyes. He paused momentarily, blinking & pawing at them. And in that moment Heather thrust both Fang & Talon through his torso, puncturing both lungs & the heart at once. Again she withdrew her blades & stepped back, avoiding the corpse as it toppled. The odds were much more even now; three to two. And Heather had a feeling that the Metallurgicans wouldn't last much longer...

OOC: Sorry for the delay! I had trouble figuring out how to end this one.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sir Meyniel's muscles tensed with expectant apprehension as he hurried to retrieve his lance from the dead soldiers back. It is one of the sad truths of combat that if your opponent has a gun and you do not you are at something of a disadvantage regardless of your personal skills or expertise (unless of course either pertain to the supernatural evasion of bullets or laser blasts). With this and his past experiences involving Metallurgicans in mind, the small knight quickly reclaimed his lance while Heather dealt with the Lieutenant and swept it in a wide arc at the ankles of the remaining soldiers, knocking most to the ground and putting the remaining off balance. This maneuver had prevented them from initially rushing the brave girl all at once. Thereafter he'd tousled with those attempting to do the 'smart' thing, which was hang back and wait until Heather was distracted by another of their company to shoot her. He'd been doing okay at this (especially given his injured limb) when two Mets broke away, at which point he'd throw his weapon at the leader. Luckily only three of the villains remained shortly, two humans and one creature. Unluckily Mey's throw cost him the advantage, and the older of the two humans was able to open fire on he and Heather in the resulting interval.

As the pair zigged and zagged sporadically for cover the younger human grabbed the barrel of the gun, pushing it up with a shout, "what are you doing? Lieutenant Lagrange is still out there!"

One of his furious companions probably would have shot him then if Heather hadn't intervened, darting forward with a skill Meyniel found admirable in one so young to puncture the heart of her trigger happy assailant. The younger human stumbled back from this, horrified, and was disarmed in the next instant along with the alarmed creature by the whirling motion of Sir Meyniel's lance, which caught the straps of their guns and tossed them some distance away. The creature trembled, and seeing that his odds were way off, fled down the far path. Mey glanced after, but let him go. He pointed his lance at the Metallurgican. The youth swallowed hard, hands tense at his sides, leaning in the direction his fellow soldier had taken, but his eyes kept darting back to the motionless Lieutenant. Finally he pressed his lips together tightly, decisively, and touching a pair of knives that hung at his belt, said with quiet resolve, "whenever you're ready."

Sir Meyniel's severe expression softened. The lad couldn't have been older than eighteen, and he wore twin packs at his waist and an armband bearing telltale red crosses. The creature lowered his lance and gestured at the surprised youth's wounded comrade, "tend to your commanding officer. When you're finished I'd like a brief word with you if you'd be so kind as to indulge me, and then I think it would be best if you left this place and returned to your city."

The human faltered, confused. Mey barked at him, gesturing with his lance tenaciously, "Well, what are you waiting for lad?! Don't stand there with your mouth hanging open while your superior lies in such a disagreeable state! Hop to it!" This spurred the soldier to action, albeit it cautious as he edged towards Lieutenant Lagrange, finally kneeling at his side to make use of his medical expertise. Sir Meyniel saw Heather tense, and addressed her calmly, "noble lady, for the sakes of those that love and depend upon these men, I implore you, leave off. A good warrior understands when it is well done to fight. A great warrior understands when it is well done to stop."

Heather considered Sir Meyniel's words for a moment. His concept of battle was, she decided, very different from her own. As far as she was concerned, you fought when obstacles got between you & your target & actively opposed your advance. You stopped when the obstacles were all eliminated. Admittedly, at least one of the Metallurgicans had escaped, but in the Eulerian Complex he was now just one more wayward adventurer & as likely to come to an untimely end as anyone else, which was to say quite likely. Heather's intention had been to leave only the lieutenant alive- though injured- and kill all the others. Even now, that inclination still urged her to strike down the medic. But something Sir Meyniel had said was tugging her in a different direction. His remark about the difference between a good warrior & a great one had stirred up memories of her decision years before, to be better than Jerin Jestwood- or at least, better than the one that had been described to her. To be 'superior' was to be better & surely 'great' was a step up from 'good'? Normally, once Heather had made a decision she carried it through, simple as that. The conflict of instincts she now felt- kill or spare- and the confusion they generated were new to her, and not at all comfortable. Muttering briefly to herself in her own language, Heather turned to Sir Meyniel & spoke directly to him for the first time since she'd begun to shadow him.

"I," she said softly & carefully, "am not a noble. I am a barbarian. And the lives of those that love and depend upon these men are no concern of mine. And in my opinion, the time to start fighting is when your opponents band together against you, the time to stop is when they are dead. That is my gut instinct still & I'm not given to sparing those I have determined should die". She paused briefly, her eyes taking in the knight & the medic. Though still doing his level best to attend to his superior, the medic had become increasingly tense whilst she had spoken. As for Sir Meyniel, his hand still grasped his lance in a business-like manner & his eyes were fixed upon her, waiting to see what she would do. Allowing the slightest of smiles to flicker across her lips, Heather concluded her statement. "Yet because you request it," she said to the knight, "I shall go against my first inclination- and perhaps my better judgement- and allow these people-," here she gestured towards the two Mets, "-to live. After all, I owe you that much". So saying Heather wiped & sheathed her blades, before wandering over to the fallen corpses. She had some final business to attend to with them. As she stooped down by the corpse of the first Met she had killed, Sir Meyniel asked her, "what notion, milady, gives rise to your belief that you are indebted to me? What, in your estimation did I do to put you in my debt?" Looking up briefly Heather answered the knight, "you trusted me".

So saying, Heather returned to the business at hand. Extending the claws from her fingertips, she began to slice a mark into the flesh of the corpse. It was her practice to do this to the corpses of any of her victims, when others besides herself had been involved in the killing. Or at least, it was her practice to do so when in relatively uncivilised areas anyway. The mark she made was almost like an 's' turned upon its side, except slightly longer & less curved towards the centre. The right-hand half of the mark was a long, razor-edged fang, curving so that its tip faced heavenwards. The left-hand half of the mark was a deadly-sharp talon, curving to a downward-facing point. Once the mark was finished, Heather wiped her claws, moved to the next victim she had killed & began the whole process again. She had done this maybe three times when she noticed Sir Meyniel watching her, a curious expression upon his face. Smiling a slightly vicious smile, Heather explained, "so the Source will know who sent them". Once she had finished marking her victims, Heather wiped the blood from her claws one final time, before setting about retrieving the weapons each one had possessed. This caused the medic to remark, in spite of the potential danger, "so not content with defacing them, you're going to rob them?"

Heather remained unfazed by this remark. Gathering up a gun from one of the corpses close by, she answered the medic. "It isn't robbery," she informed him, "if your victim is dead. If he's simply dead its called 'grave-robbery'. But if he was killed in battle- particularly if you killed him in battle- then it's something altogether different. In those circumstances its called 'plundering the enemy' or 'collecting the spoils of battle'. It's a practice well-attested in both ancient and modern literature & no law has ever been passed against it. Just about every city, country, nation or civilization that ever existed has employed the practice at some time or another, war-like peoples in particular. People like the denizens of Metallurgica for example," she finished pointedly. Before the medic could issue a reply Sir Meyniel intervened. "Milady I implore you, go easy on the young man's feelings," he said, "after all, he has just watched these men cut down, a number of them by yourself no less. As a medical officer he tries to preserve life rather than destroy it. Perhaps you could bear that in mind, for my sake if not for his?" Heather shrugged as she made her way back to where the small knight stood. "I'll bear it in mind," she answered, "but I'm not giving those firearms back. I can get a good price for them in one or two places I know. And perhaps once he's finished patching up his superior there, you could ask him your questions & be rid of him?"

Sir Meyniel inclined his head to her agreeably before making his way over to the medic, who was rubbing petroleum jelly into Lieutenant Lagrange's torso wound with latex clad fingers. He looked up as the knight came to stand across from him, "yeah?" Mey noted traces of hostility and embarrassment in the human's voice and took care in choosing his words. It wasn't the time to threaten, nor was it the time to indicate the only reason the lad was alive was that they had been so 'magnanimous' as to let him live. Such remarks were hardly conducive to a candid exchange of information as far as the knight's search went, and although the creature had to admire Heather's skill in battle, it was clear her comments just now had exacerbated already tense circumstances.

"First," Sir Meyniel began tentatively, "I'd like to th--" but before he could complete this sentence he was interrupted by the foreboding sound of air being sucked into the Lieutenant's wound. The medic swore and started to pull things from his packs, "--punctured lung. Was afraid of this--"

"--what can I do?" Mey queried, laying his lance down without hesitation. The medic talked nearly as fast as he worked, distractedly, desperately, "steady him! I need to apply a pressure bandage--" The knight nodded rapidly and followed his instructions, holding Lagrange firmly in place as he applied the dressing, muttering more for his sake than Meyniel's, "jelly should keep it air tight..." he trailed off, all focus on his patient as he removed a pointed instrument from its sterile pack and cut a small hole in the bandage to allow excess air to escape once the lung had re-inflated. "There..."

Sir Meyniel sat back, resting his paws on his knees gravely, "bad luck, old thing. Can you risk moving him?"

The medic wiped some sweat from his brow. "I'll have to...I'll have to improvise a stretcher. I can use my blanket and two branches for supports." He began to assemble the aforementioned necessities, removing two long branches from the pile he'd previously worn as camouflage but had since removed in order to work on his officer, "the only problem is attaching these. I could suture the blanket around them, but I don't know if stitches alone'll hold his weight..."

"My mate created a bioadhesive I never leave the palace without--" Mey rummaged in one of his packs, "--it can hold five thousand pounds easily. Secure your side, I'll do mine." He tossed him a jar, and the pair set to work caking the blanket edges with the sticky adhesive and folding them over the branches while Heather looked on from beside her pile of firearms. Once this was done the medic rang for the creature who had fled earlier on his A.P.D. They argued for several minutes over the practicality of the cowardly soldier returning to help carry their superior before he was able to convince him it was safe. Hanging up, he found the small knight already positioned to ease Lagrange onto the readymade stretcher. The lad bent down, lifting his superior's upper body gingerly while Mey got his feet, "names Marko." The creature smiled, "delighted! Sir Meyniel." Marko chuckled, "I didn't know Sir Meyniel spared Metallurgicans, never mind helped 'em. You a different Meyniel?"

"I didn't know Metallurgicans willingly placed themselves in danger in order to save their comrades, never mind accepted assistance from non-Metallurgicans. Are you of a different Metallurgica?"

"Touche." He smiled slightly as they settled Lagrange onto the stretcher, tugging a secured blanket edge before remarking amazedly, "I'll be...never seen anything like this--"

Mey seemed eager to depart now, "--save the praise for when it carries you safely through, son." He stooped to retrieve the cylindrical device he'd dropped earlier in battle as Marko answered, beetle-bot hovering patiently alongside, "yeah well, thanks anyway. Really." He paused, then continued, "you said you wanted a word with me or something?" The knight shook his head, and pushing a button, another slot slid open in the side of the canister, admitting the tiny robot and shutting with a decisive clink behind it. "I did, but we must leave you now." He secured the canister over his lance via its attached loop, wisps of white steam emanating from slits in the top as it sterilized the sullied beetle-bot.

"Oh, 'course. Didn't mean to keep you. But you really ought to treat your arm before you go anywhere. If you want I can patch it while I wait for--"

"--while you wait for your comrade to arrive and find you consorting with one of Metallurgica's most wanted?"

He asked calmly. Realization dawned on the youth's face, and he stood astounded at Mey's care in preserving not only his well being, but also his reputation. This and all he'd done thus far impelled Marko to his final act. Hurrying after the departing knight and the barbarian carting her armful of weapons, he pressed two things into Meyniel's free hand, a thin rectangular machine and an envelope, "this device'll help you find your way out. Follow the strongest signal. And take this as well--" Mey nodded as the lad urgently tried to convey what he needed to, "--we weren't here on orders. From the Prince I mean. Had leave to come, but--"

"--I understand. Thank you Marko. You are truly a gentleman."

Meyniel was off and Heather followed after, leaving the medic to await his approaching comrade. When he judged they were safe the knight stopped to finally tend to his arm and examine the curious package Marko had entrusted to him. Tying a bandage in place, he opened it, removing a single sheet of paper and an attached photograph. He studied the paper first, a printed copy of what appeared to be a WWN forum post:

Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Jerin Jestwood.

Wanted dead or alive, preferably alive. A reward of 100,000,000,000,000 credit will be issued for the delivery of his body, an additional 100,000,000 if incapacitated but still breathing. Mark is a nocturnal male creature of slight build, appears between the ages of twenty seven and thirty, is five feet seven inches tall including ears, and nearly black in color with pointed white markings. He was last spotted wearing a grey suit coat with white pinstripes, patched trousers, wire reels around each wrist and a red bandanna (see attached photo for further clarification in regards to appearance). Mark will most likely come across as friendly and harmless if engaged, but it is not recommended the mark be engaged for any reason if possible. Further inquiries and information relating to his whereabouts, capture, or death should be forwarded to...

But the address and poster's username had been cut off (purposefully?) by a plethora of replies. The knight skimmed the remainder of the page, his attention drawn to one response highlighted in yellow. It had been published only a week earlier:

Mark is suspected to be heading for or already within The Eulerian Complex just outside Algos' territory. Exact coordinates are unknown.

Sir Meyniel flipped the page over to study the photo. It had been taken on the crowded street of a city (Mey guessed it to be Kinetica) and Jerin Jestwood stared directly at the camera several yards from the photographer, waving and smiling. The creature shivered involuntarily. There was something decidedly sinister about the image. He held it up for Heather to see, "look here milady. It appears they were after someone, not something..."

Heather had been busily breaking down the firearms into their component pieces as Sir Meyniel assisted Marko. Then, when the knight had stopped to attend to his own wound & to examine the articles Marko had given to him, Heather had taken the opportunity to store the component pieces about her person. Now she turned her attention to the documents Sir Meyniel was holding up to her. Taking the proffered documents, Heather began to scan the contents. The title, despite its potential significance to herself, held her attention only briefly. Although she had never had enough credit of her own to afford an A.P.D- the bulk of her profits going towards the essentials of survival, or to a fund earmarked for emergencies- Heather knew that there were any number of legends about Jerin Jestwood, had been any number of people who had taken the name, and almost no-one living who could positively identify the original, even if he was still alive. Of course, Boss Houiri could positively identify the real Jerin & regarded him as living, but he had plenty of reasons not to go to the authorities with that information. As she further examined the contents of the document, they succeeded in doing what the title had failed to accomplish; they caught her attention. 100,000,000,000,000 credit for capture with 100,000,000 on top of that if he was alive? Where was the address the information should be forwarded to? Bearing those questions in mind Heather turned to examine the image which accompanied the text- and promptly felt as though she'd been hit by a sledgehammer.

The image showed a creature who fitted the description given in the text exactly. But in the photograph one detail stood out to Heather, that had seemed inccidental in the text. The red bandanna. Almost of its own volition, Heather's hand rose to the bandanna that kept her own tresses in place. The hair of the creature in the picture wasn't quite the same blue-black colour her own was, nor was it anywhere near as long. But the bandanna was of the same kind, the same shade, the same colour- he even wore it at the same angle that she did. Moreover, as Heather gazed at the image, she became convinced that she knew upon exactly which day it had been taken: the day she had bought her own red bandanna. She'd been in one of the many cities her travelling took her to that day & had been industriously trading for several hours. During a brief lull in activity she had decided to get something to eat. A strong instinct had guided her unerringly to a particular street, one that looked very much like the one in the picture now before her. At the time she'd assumed that it was her sense of smell, leading her to a bakery on that street. But what if she'd been wrong about that? What if she'd been feeling the same sense of- something- then that she felt now? What if she somehow had sensed the real Jerin Jestwood, was drawn to him because he was her biological father? What if that same unfathomable link was calling her now, drawing her towards him as surely as iron is drawn towards a magnet? Even her bandanna might be linked to him- she normally liked bandannas in neutral or dark colours, colours that could blend with the wilds. Had her sudden urge to buy a red one been because, without knowing it, her close proximity to the true Jerin had somehow resulted in her tastes being influenced by his own?

She glanced down at Sir Meyniel. He was watching her, a mixture of curiosity & concern in his eyes. "Milady, are you alright?" he asked gently, "if I didn't know better, I'd say from your expression that you've seen a ghost". Heather blinked & shook her head slightly, as though to clear it. "Its nothing," she said, "its just that when I saw this picture- well, I think I might have been on this same street, the day it was taken". The small knight nodded, a look of understanding upon his face. "Indeed, I could well understand that giving rise to the sensation that someone might just have walked upon your grave," he replied. Heather nodded briefly, her eyes scanning the image & the text again. "Do you think he might actually be Jerin Jestwood?" she asked. "I regret that I cannot aid you there," the knight responded, "having never set eyes upon the original for myself. All I can tell you is that whoever posted that bulletin either believes him to be, or has a grudge of such monumental proportions against him that he may as well be". Heather nodded again, her mind elsewhere. Just suppose it was her biological father prowling the Complex. If it was, then she had been handed an incredibly rare opportunity. She now had a once-in-a-lifetime chance to meet him face to face- if she found him first. She looked over at Sir Meyniel again. "I have six questions about this," she remarked.

"Only six? Milady, I have at least a dozen questions about this," the small knight informed her, "and were I your age, I should think I would have at least two dozen more!" Heather smiled briefly at this. "Alright, I'll admit I've any number of questions," she said, "but six in particular that stand out". She paused briefly before continuing. "As you might've noticed from the way I dress," she said, gesturing whilst she spoke, "I'm a Tinker as well as a barbarian. That means that, to a greater or lesser degree, I'm a trader & a merchant. Now, in the course of my career- brief as I admit it has been so far- I've found that there are six basic questions that are essential to the success of a business, no matter what that business is. They are as follows: Who, What, How, Where, When & Why. Of those six, the two most important are usually Who & Why. If you can find the answer to those two, the remaining four usually fall into place". Again Heather paused, looking once more at the documents in her hand before continuing. "Those are the six questions that come to my mind whenever I look at this," she said softly, "here's how they come to me. Firstly; Who could put a bounty this size on 'Jerin's' head? I've heard it said that half the world would pay to spit upon his grave, but you'd need about that many people working in co-operation to raise such a sum. If it was the law or the government the announcement wouldn't be public & they'd send their own agents to deal with him- for a fraction of that price. So it must be someone who's powerful, believes this Jerin is the genuine article & is no friend of the law. Secondly; What do they know that makes them so convinced that this Jerin is Jerin? Whatever it is, it must be amazingly convincing. Thirdly; How do they know what they know, since there are almost no individuals in this world who could dig up evidence strong enough to positively identify one individual as the true Jerin? Fourth; Where should the information be forwarded to? The address isn't included on this document. Perhaps the sender has something to hide? Fifth; When did the sender come by the information? If it was recently then have they really had sufficient time to make a positive identification? If it was years ago, then how come they didn't act until now? Finally; Why does the owner of this information want him so badly? If they truly are a friend of the law, then I can undersand them wanting to put away- or put an end to- a criminal whose record dates back centuries. But if not, then why go after him? Is he bad for the sender' business? Or is it something more personal than that? Those are my six questions," Heather concluded. Then, as she handed back the documents, she looked Sir Meyniel squarely in the eye & added, "and I've just thought of one other one: Do you want to find out the answers as badly as I do?"

OOC: Just stepping in to let you all know that I edited back in the missing posts that were fortunately saved by Arikyrenne prior to the forum move. I put them into Jess's post with the summary, which is post #33, so you can look back to that in case you wanted to see any specifics of those.

Enjoy your RP, glad to see an RP go on for this long and with this quality; haven't read all of it but what I have seen, I'm impressed with.

OOC: Righteous, thanks Terg =) and thank you Ari for making this possible by doing such a thorough job saving all those posts. Extra special thanks to Gem for setting everything up / playing messenger while I was busy with work. You guys rock and I hope these words and sentences I've perpetrated continuously since that drunken January night didn't cause too much trouble!

And this would be the transition post. Depending on how Gem responds it'll either be my last or second to last involving Sir Meyniel and Heather (for the time being). I've also picked up where we left off with Dirac, Toby, and Henry (if you need more of a refresher than what's below, Tobe, definitely drop me a note or hit me up on AIM with questions / concerns).

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sir Meyniel didn't answer her right away, stroking the tufts of fur on either side of his face thoughtfully. Unaware as he was of the genetic link between the real Jerin Jestwood and Heather, the knight couldn't begin to guess what would possess a seemingly sensible, cautious individual to want to seek information on a creature marked for death (and thus, trouble). Based on her earlier comments he supposed the reward itself might be reason enough, but it was also possible she wanted answers for the notoriety such knowledge could bring her, or simply out of youthful curiosity. Whatever her line of thinking, Mey felt he couldn't close the subject as he might've had she been a stranger. With strangers he'd always considered it impolite to offer his advice or opinions as though he knew better than they, especially when he wasn't asked for either. Still, Heather wasn't just a stranger. She was someone who had come to his aid of her own accord, and the knight's sense of honor demanded he attempt to return the favor by reminding her of the consequences such actions might yield (or rather, fail to yield). So he gently said, "a wolf who had a bone stuck in his throat hired a crane to put her head into his mouth and draw it out. When the crane had extracted the bone and demanded the promised payment, the wolf, grinning and grinding his teeth, exclaimed, 'why, you have surely already had a sufficient recompense, in having been permitted to draw out your head in safety from the mouth and jaws of a wolf...'" he regarded her seriously, "...in serving, or in this case seeking that which is wicked, expect no reward, and be thankful if you escape injury for your pains." He shook his head, "not only do I have no desire to know the answers, milady, but I can only hope the information herein is false and we do not encounter the creature in question..." Mey glanced over his shoulder, musing, "...Marko said 'we weren't here on orders.' They must have been here for the bounty, not for Metallurgica, but when that fell through he gave this to us so we'd know who to be wary of."

He looked back at her with a smile, "good fellow, that. My dearest Thiele would be lost without me, as would our unborn kits, my parents, my prince and my kingdom. When I think of them, I see how pursuing this information and the perils certain to follow simply for the sake of doing so would be inconsiderate of me--" he shouldered his lance anxiously, "--in any case, I'm unable to regardless as I've a previous obligation."

He pushed his helmet up, "I seek a certain maiden--as you've no doubt gathered--of Emerald Isle descent, colored orange with ochre markings, dark eyed and large pawed, a fine lady acrobatic of limb and wit, or so I'm told. She has been very generous with my young master you see, and even had he not requested I seek her out, honor would demand I repay her for her courtesy to him--" he bowed his head then, "--as it does also with you, for you see, you may have saved my life just now." He looked back up, "I am bound to serve the maid who carries Algos' seal, which well it isn't regrettable is unfortunate as I will not be able to assist you once I stand at her side, but so long as our paths run together--" he stood to his full height, pressing a paw to his heart with a smile, "--might I, Sir Meyniel of Algos, servant to His Royal Highness King Lovasz Abelian Cayley Calculus and His Royal Highness Prince Icosian Lovasz Cayley Calculus, beg the honor of assisting you in whatever endeavor you are about in so much as I am able, miss...?" The knight trailed off questioningly, hoping she would grant him her name.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dirac tensed as he waited for Tobias and Henry to come to a decision. ANY decision. He could hear the scratching and snarling of the horned rat-like creatures much too clearly for his liking as they broke down the already damaged wall behind them. The straightforward path opened courtesy of the Complex lay to their right, Elsie and Burnu's voices resonating distantly as they battled on the other end where it opened out. The human couldn't hear any of this of course, and thought only of that which was unknown to him. Even if the mysterious pathway would (somehow) provide a quicker means of re-joining their companions, there was no telling what sort of traps lay between them, and Dirac wanted no part in this particular game of chance. Starting at the chilling screech of horn against wall, he scowled, and gestured at the ground of the path they were on, "these are Jerin and Aurora's tracks. I'm going to follow them, and you're welcome to join me. But I'm leaving now."

Having said his piece, he hurried off. I realize how this may sound, but several things should be taken into account before you judge Dirac too harshly. First, the mercenary wasn't stupid or unobservant. He'd assessed the damage done earlier to the aforementioned wall by first Henry and then Tobias, and he knew they weren't helpless. Additionally he was feeling increasingly frustrated with their lack of progress through the Complex. The others might be able to stop and go as they pleased, but he was on Houiri's time, which was short and demanding (to say the least). Finally, Dirac felt he didn't have the energy (physically or otherwise) to look out for others anymore. It hadn't always been that way. Once there had been a little girl, small but pretty and very smart. If she'd been his he'd have bragged about her all the time, but she hadn't been, she'd belonged to Houiri. He'd called her Slug up until he had to leave for several months on a particularly perilous assignment. At that point he'd told her to choose a name for herself while he was gone (partially to make the separation easier), a name he would look forward to calling her when he got back. Little did he know there wouldn't be any coming back, for upon his return he found Houiri's private premises raided and Slug missing, stolen away in the chaos and certainly killed for being one of his boss's 'projects.' Houiri had burned his lab to the ground and many of his best men to cinders in his fury and that was that. She was never found, never heard from. She was gone.

Not even his wife could bring any mention of her out of him after that, nor could dear Pertelote, who wondered why Slug didn't want her drawings anymore and why Slug didn't send her drawings. He wanted to forget her and to forget empathy because it was just easier in his line of work. But sometimes he caught himself wondering what name she would have chosen. And sometimes that shade of green he had come to hate drew his attention and he would turn thinking he might see her eyes sparking with curiosity. But it never was her.

She was gone and he was still there, running from monsters and lightening fast mercenaries and robots and black and white creatures that shanghaied you into paying for an escort through horrible mechanized ruins. Dirac wasn't a bad person or a good person. He was a normal person who had taken on as much as he could and couldn't take more than what he had at present. Everyone left or changed or became more than they were, but he stayed where he was, not asking for anything and not offering anything other than what was required, and that suited him fine because he was still alive. His family was still alive. And he meant to keep it that way...

OOC: This post may well pack quite a lot into it, but hopefully I've allowed Jess to respond fairly quickly to Heather & possibly to rejoin the main cast with the post subsequent to this one. Anyway, here goes & on with the RP!

IC: Heather paused momentarily before answering the small knight. It occurred to her that this might actually be the first time she had ever given her name to someone. It was true she'd interacted with people often enough whilst selling her goods, but they seldom asked names. Mainly their concern was whether they could barter with her, or get a better price than at market-stalls elsewhere. She'd written her name down in guestbooks as well, when stopping at inns for the night, but who would care to remember the names written down in those? But if she told this knight her name it would be different. Who forgets the name & face of someone who saves their life? Smiling a little more widely than usual, Heather answered Sir Meyniel. "Heather," she said, extending a hand & taking care to allow some warmth into her voice, "Heather Jay Jessop. And I'm glad to make your acquaintance, Sir Meyniel," she finished, bowing slightly to the knight who stood before her. There. Now it was done. Now no matter what happened to her, there would be someone in the world who would remember her- assuming he survived the Complex. Maybe he would mention her to the unborn kits he had mentioned, or the rest of his family? Heather realised she would probably never know the answer to that, just as the knight would probably never know why she wanted the answers to her six questions so badly. He could not help her with them because he had obligations to attend to & family to worry about. Heather had no-one to care for her & only the possibility of gaining a kind of family if she found the creature in the photograph. That hadn't always been strictly true though. Once there had been a man she looked up to like a father, who had made her feel like she belonged to someone. He'd known her as Slug. He'd never learned the name she'd chosen for herself though. For the choosing of her name, like her escape from Boss Houiri, had been events that had unfolded in his absence, back in her turbulent & violent past...

"...Be sure to pick carefully Slug," Dirac said to her as he stood in the doorway. The girl smiled up at him & reached under her table, her hand coming back with a sketchbook in it. Flipping it open, she carefully tore out a particular page & ran over to hand it to Dirac. "Another picture for Pertelote," she said. Dirac grinned broadly as he took the picture from her outstretched hand. "I'll make sure she gets it," he told her, before adding, "you're becoming quite the artist Slug," as he strode out the door. After the door was closed the girl considered his words. It was true, she was drawing a lot more lately. It was partly because she had been taught biology recently. The complexities of the systems that made up humans, creatures & other kinds of life-forms fascinated her no less than the details of electronic systems & the components that made up firearms. Living things though, were far more complex, even single-cell life-forms had D.N.A as intricate as a humans'. She'd delved into poetry & Celtic Knotwork too (when she could) since these also held her attention, the latter because of the intricate, interlinking patterns- not unlike diagrams of D.N.A. The former because of the system of rhyme & rhythm by which they worked. On the rare occasions that the opportunity came up, she had also sneaked a few more peeks into her personal file & had, as a result learned her date of birth. A matter of days ago she had been exactly ten years old. She had shared this information with Dirac, who had wished her a happy birthday, despite the odds they both knew were against that actually happening. After Dirac letf though, a series of events was set in motion that would change the girl's life forever.

It began with her noticing a small symbol used as a trademark on one of the books Dirac had given her. A circle with interlinking lines within it, forming an unusual shape. What it was the girl couldn't say, but she instinctively knew that it meant something. She had copied it into one of her sketchpads & asked one of her teachers about it. He had told her it was a magical symbol, probably a symbol of Aeromancy. Sensing that she could gain more information if she played her cards right, the girl had told him bluntly that she didn't believe him, that magic was only in storybooks. To prove his point, he had turned their lesson- intended as a Mathematics session- into a lesson on magic. He had brought up several net-sites detailing magical symbols, formulae, branches of magic & laws detailing their respective uses, advantages & restrictions. The girl had taken in the information, memorising as much as she possibly could. The symbols all meant something to her. They were like diagrams, or schematics for weapons. It wasn't the symbols themselves that were important, it was what they represented, the fact that they told you how everything should be put together if you wanted the magic to work. Her teacher had lost his job for that lesson, although the girl shed no tears for him. It was a few weeks after that, that things had taken a dramatic turn. The girl had been under her bed, trying to work magic. She'd found that, if she tried, she could make the breath she breathed out travel in different directions. Suddenly, there had been loud crashes & bangs, the sounds of feet running, people shouting & weapons firing. Then, there had been a very loud bang & the lights in her quarters had gone out.

It had taken her a moment to realise what that meant. If the lights were out, then no power was getting through to her rooms & the cameras were blind. If ever there was a moment to escape, it was now! But how? The power which gave sight to the cameras also controlled the locks on the door. A sudden cacophony made her jump. Going to the wall opposite her, she pressed her ear against it. The sounds of a fire-fight reached her. Suddenly, she had an idea. Placing her hands against the wall, the girl began to lightly drum her fingers in a steady, constant rhythm. Then she began to speak, in her own unique language, a language that contained no profane words, but that was very, very descriptive. In her mind she pictured what she wanted to do. Just recently, she had learned of Natural Frequency, the principle that everything vibrates at a certain frequency. Once, a bridge built without taking this into account had been shaken by powerful winds, causing it to vibrate at its natural frequency. As the high winds exacerbated it, the bridge had disintegrated. By drawing upon the sounds from the other side of the wall & the sounds she was making, the girl hoped to make the wall do the same thing. She continued, the tapping & her voice forming a rhythm, like waves breaking against the shore. She could sense that a change was taking place, the molecules in the wall were vibrating faster. The increased speed meant that friction was generated & tiny amounts of heat were produced. Concentrating her efforts, the girl tried to increase the speed of the vibrations, whilst keeping the heat trapped in one area. It was difficult to hold in the heat, the girl could barely do it. But she held it in, feeling it grow, then released it carefully into more of the wall. The increase in tempeature caused the molecules to vibrate faster, creating more heat in a larger area, which the girl trapped for as long as she could before releasing it again. After a short period of repeating this, the whole wall was vibrating, a low hum starting to emanate from it. It wouldn't be long now. Taking a deep breath, the girl raised her voice & completed her spell. The wall disintegrated & a rush of blistering hot wind washed into the room, accompanied by something like a thunderclap. Picking herself up from where she'd been thrown against the opposite wall, the girl surveyed her handiwork.

The wall she'd been working on was gone & beyond the gaping hole in her quarters were a large number of bodies lying on the ground. In a rush, the girl gathered what she could into a blanket & tied it into a bundle. Then, stepping out through the hole she'd created, the girl stopped to look at the bodies. Her senses told her they weren't dead, only unconcious. Since the bulk of the sound she'd used to destroy the wall had come not from her own efforts, but from their conflict, the girl could only imagine what the backlash that side of the wall had been like. None of the unconcious people- human or creature- were the size of a 10-year old girl, but she had found a backpack on one of them that she felt she could use. Emptying the contents of it, the girl stuffed her bundle into it & hoisted it onto her own shoulders. For good measure, she took a scarf from another & wrapped it round her neck, concealing the collar. As a final flourish, she took some of the weapons. Then, she made her bid for freedom. By the following morning she had sold the weapons- almost uncaring of the credit she got for them- & made her way out of the city into the wilds. There she had paused briefly, partly to cast the collar she had torn from her neck into a bog & partly to consider what Dirac had told her. What would she call herself now she was free? She thought of the name Houiri had always called her: 001-JJSP. Well no-one would believe that was any kind of name, especially the numbers. They would go straight away. What should she replace them with? As the girl wondered, a small flower caught her eye, reminding her of the very first book Dirac had ever given her. Heather. That could be her first name. But what about the rest? A memory asserted itself. A Jay was a certain kind of bird, but also a name. She could use that. Heather Jay. But what of the remaining JSP? The girl said it over to herself a few times. There was something in the sound. Say the 's' long: 'J-ess-p'. It still wasn't quite right. Wait; there was a sound that almost happened when she said it like that, almost silent but definitely there. 'J-ess-o-p'. Jessop. That was a name wasn't it? Well, it was going to be hers. Heather Jay Jessop. She ran through it in her head & liked the sound of it. Smiling to herself, Heather Jay Jessop wandered deeper into the wilds, to begin her first day of freedom.

Back in the present, Heather wondered what Dirac was doing now. She had only seen him again one other time, three years after her escape. After living all that time in the wilds, she'd realised that she couldn't live that way forever. She needed company. And, being a growing girl, she needed proper clothing. She had only been able to think of one person who might provide her with either, or with the means to get them: Dirac. She had sneaked her way back into Rithm to find him. With her old blanket wrapped around her head and shoulders & with the patched & re-patched clothing she wore (made up of almost all the clothes she had worn when smaller), she had easily passed for a victim of the continuing war. She'd had no idea where to find Dirac, but, as she'd turned a particular corner there he was, coming the other way. She'd wanted to run to him, but the moment she saw the collar still around his neck, she'd realised he couldn't help her. She might be free, but he was still prisoner to Houiri. She'd slid into a sitting position next to the wall as that realisation had dawned on her. Moments later, as he passed by, Dirac had seen what he obviously believed to be a young refugee sitting begging in the street. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed the same age as one of his own children- even though he couldn't see her face- that had made Dirac do what he did. With a sad smile he had dropped an unusually large amount of credit into her lap. With a no less sad smile upon her face, Heather had watched him continue on his way. Then, when she was sure he was out of earshot, "goodbye Dirac," she had said softly, before turning & going her way.

Having answered Sir Meyniel, Heather thought of something. Three years ago, she had used the money from Dirac to get herself started as a Tinker. Now, an even better opportunity seemed to have presented itself. True, it might seem at first as though she was passing up the opportunitiy to look for her biological father, but Heather had thought about that. If the creature in the picture was Jerin Jestwood, if he knew someone had placed such a huge bounty on his head, then wasn't it possible that the reason he was here was that- in those circumstances-something supposedly capable of ending wars might suddenly seem very appealing? If so, then wasn't there every possibility of running into him if she went looking for the Treasure? Looking down at the knight she spoke again. "As regards my business here," she said, "I'm sure you'll understand if I leave that up to your imagination. But I think I've an idea why you're here". She paused briefly before continuing. "According to the rumours I heard," she informed Sir Meyniel, "there is a Treasure in here could end the Algos/Rithm war. I thought the war-ending part was just rumour at first. However, I'm now starting to suspect that the girl you seek might have offered to covertly retrieve the Treasure for Algos. And if they sent you to aid her, Algos must want that Treasure pretty badly. So maybe there's something to the rumour after all, although you don't have to confirm it of course". Taking a breath, Heather continued. "Whatever the case, if you were to safely find & retrieve the Treasure for Algos," she said carefully, "and as a result the war ended, I imagine both you & the girl would gain lasting renown & favour within Algos. Now supposing, say, a certain Tinker was to aid you in the finding & retrieving of the Treasure for Algos- and with the word of a knight of the realm to confirm that- she might gain some of that renown & favour too". Looking Sir Meyniel straight in the eye, Heather said, "I don't know what influence you have in your homeland, but if I aid you, can you vouch for me?"

OOC: Wow, what a monster of a post! If you feel there's anything here that needs correcting Jess, don't hesitiate to let me know. Also, I know we discussed the influence Sir Mey has in court, but bear in mind Heather doesn't know that!

OOC: Not at all Gem, your post was terrific! I especially like how you handled Heather's manipulation of frequencies, it was a refreshing departure from the 'spell casting' descriptions I'm used to reading =) really just some nice writing overall.

And I've got more (Australian) slang below:

*Earbashing is nagging or non-stop chatter.
*By jingoes is an exclamation of surprise.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sir Meyniel listened attentively, but his smile wavered as Heather begin to speak about gaining favor in Algos via the recovery of its treasure. When she had finished he sighed, "oh dear...were I only any other knight of my order." Knowing full well what a lacking statement it was, he elaborated apologetically, "lady Heather, I should be more than happy to vouch for you for any reason at all, but I must be honest because you have been nothing but civil to me. Yes, I am here on behalf of Algos, and yes, the lady I seek represents my kingdom as well, but regardless of what she, you, or I find separately or as a unit it is...unlikely, that his Highness will think much of anyone I think highly of--"

Despite this he continued (perhaps more for her sake than his) optimistically, "--still, there's a first time for everything! This may yet be the deed that endears me to the King. And if milady were to visit Algos in ten to twenty years time she would certainly have the willing ear and able hand of my young master, Prince Icosian Calculus, who does not forget a good turn and knows the value of things."

Mey pushed his helmet up earnestly, "if your arrangement is still agreeable to you even after learning all this, then I swear by my prince's good name, I shall speak highly of you when I make my report to his Highness." He grinned sheepishly, "and though I mean not to influence your decision, I daresay with your aid, fair maid, I should feel ten, nay, twenty times as confident in victory!"

She had to smile at his effortless enthusiasm, and it came to pass that knight and barbarian continued along the eulerian path, only this time, they made their way together...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ball led Jerin, Aurora and Kiku Cho around the final turn and into the scene they'd been hearing for the past several minutes. The ground of the corridor was trampled; sparks illuminated several large impact craters and their surrounding rubble, tiny pinpricks of light leaping sporadically from Complex circuitry exposed and mangled by the force of tremendous blows. Elsie clung with one hand to the vines high up the far wall, bruised with blood still drying on her lip, one laser clutched tight in her other hand. Beneath her Burnu raged at the foliage, tearing wildly in an attempt to shake her from her perch. He had sustained bruises as well and one very telling burn on the shoulder where Elsie caught him with her blasts. Both Bush creatures were so focused on their feud they didn't even notice the arrival of the trio and continued to snarl savagely at each other. This appeared to be rather fine with Jerin, who ignored them in favor of pursuing the small robot that rolled past and stopped at the edge of the water trap, droning triumphantly. On the other side, Jack responded jubilantly, causing Ottilie to lift her head from its place on her knees. She was still feeling considerably dizzy, and Jerin's arrival did nothing to make her feel better (as it seldom did). This coupled with her surprise and subsequent anxiety over the absences of Tobias and Henry created sentiments she felt best taken out on her adversary. "O, are you--" he was saying, voice filled with concern, but she cut him off crossly, "--where are Toby an' Henry, Jerin?!"

He quirked a brow at her tone, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, "back where you left them, Ottilie. I'd have insisted they come had I known you'd placed yourself on the other side of--" he gestured at the pit between them, "--this ill advised watering hole!"

"Like I bloody well did it on purpose!" She snapped, attempting to get to her feet while Legs chirred worriedly. Jerin held up his hands, "careful--!"

"--shut yer gob an' save the pitch fer someone who's buyin' it, J!" She growled. To further her annoyance he chuckled, "why Ottilie, you're telling too much, taking your frustrations out on me." He leaned forward with a smile, "I didn't know we were that comfortable with each other..."

Furious, the younger girl shook her fists at him, Legs jabbering angrily, "m'not either! An' furtherm--!" She had to break off to brace herself against the wall then, and Jerin laughed, "--furthermore indeed. You needn't push yourself on my account, you know...because--" but he stopped and only smiled, regarding her glaring eyes fondly, "--well...you needn't. Sit tight, I'll be over--"

Meanwhile, Kiku had approached her Thousand comrade. As you may remember, Burnu Banarang, the Red Bastion of a Thousand Needles, was born of the Banarang or Blood Clan of the Bush. What you may not know is that Clan is renowned for several unique traits, most notably their ability to smell a single drop of blood from great distances. An ancient race, they are stubborn, persistent, proud, and not given to ignoring a slight, and Burnu was a shining example of a Banarang in all these respects. His style of assassination left much to be desired in the way of subtlety, but what it lacked in stealth it made up for in carnage. His importance to the two formative members of the squad was rooted in this fact, as Burr was one of few assassins who specialized in taking down whole villages simply by rolling over them.

"Burnu, this is hardly the time." Cho begin coolly. The reptilian creature didn't turn from snapping vines, only grunted, "'lo Kix. Where's the old blighter?"

Visibly alarmed, Kiku exclaimed, "you mean to say he did not meet up with you?!"

This caused Burnu to turn his head, just as concerned as she, "UH, do ya see 'im?! Thought he was tailin' ya with the crate?!"

"Well he was, but then he veered off along with those dreadful beasts. I was about to--"

"--Source preserve Kixxy, ya lost 'im???"

"I did not lose him, and do not take that tone with me--"

They fell to arguing, and Elsie's eyes darted back and forth between them overhead. Grateful as she was for the temporary respite, the agent didn't know if she had it in her to take on both should it come to that. Turning her head to check on Ottilie, she noticed Jerin and Aurora near the water trap and scowled. When had they gotten there? Had they come with the female? What was going on?

"--alright, alright, quit yer earbashin,' let me eat, an' we'll go!"

Burnu's voice brought her back, and she looked down as Kiku looked up and met her gaze disapprovingly. "A Dyara? Master Nochtli could well be in danger and you want to wait until you have finished a Dyara?"

Elsie wiped her lip angrily, "hope you're not expecting that to make any kind of sense, Princess, 'cause you're in for a long wait--" she made as if to aim her laser, "--now back off or you'll see what the P.I.A.--" but her sharp tongue had finally pierced the wrong target, for before her arm could extend to its fullest twin needles came to rest not a fraction of an inch from either side of her head. Stunned, she quivered as Cho pursed her lips severely, "it does not become a female to act as you do. How one such as Jerin can tolerate your--"

"--by jingoes, Jesty's here?!" Burnu interrupted.

His comrade continued to glare at the agent, "hmph. If you had been paying attention you would have noticed he arrived with me."

She motioned to the creature, who had just finished his conversation with Ottilie and was finding his footing on the side of the Complex where the vines hadn't been severed. Craning his neck, he distractedly responded, "what? Yes. Quite well thank you."

"Beloved, no one was asking how you were, I was only alerting Burnu of your presence," Cho said patiently, smoothing several strands of hair back into place.

"Ah. Wonderful. If you'll pardon me--" he started to turn, but Cho stopped him, jealousy entering her voice "--is this really--" she waved a delicate hand at Elsie, "--what you choose to keep as company now?"

Jerin's face contorted as if he'd eaten something sour, "dear me, no! I find her extremely unpleasant!"

"I'd rather shoot myself than hang around him!" Elsie growled, having recovered from Cho's assault. The kunoichi glanced haughtily at her, "Burnu may eat her then?"

"Well--"

"--JERIN..." Ottilie yelled warningly, and he rolled his eyes, "--if you'd be so kind as to seek a meal elsewhere Burnu, I'd be grateful."

The Bush creature grunted, "fine..." he backed down from the wall, "lucky break, sheila."

"I--" Elsie started hotly, "--don't need his protection or--!" She paused abruptly, ears perking nearly in time with Jerin's and Aurora's, though it was Cho who identified the distant rumbling an instant later. Whirling to face Burnu, she pouted, "it is them. What are we to do now?"

He scratched at the peeling skin of his burnt shoulder, shrugging, "nothin' ta be done except the obvious." The kunoichi pointed at the open passage to their left, "what about this?" Burr shrugged again, "ya want ta run inta Source knows what s'yer prerogative Kixxy, but I don't fancy wastin' my energy only ta maybe come up on more o'the same."

She sighed, "very well--"

"--s'goin' on?!" Ottilie called anxiously from across the water. She got her answer when Dirac rounded the far corner at a rapid pace. He was upon them shortly and swore at the water trap before his eyes darted down the open corridor. He shook his head at it, turning back around and removing his axe resolutely, "got a pack of ugly on my tail. Anyone come from up thataway?"

Elsie dropped to the ground, lasers at the ready, "negative, Buster. But if it's a fight they want, I'm for it." The rat-like creatures poured around the corner, some as big as Burnu and all armed with foreboding horns and gnashing, foaming, sharp teeth and claws. Jerin seemed nonplussed and about to continue his pursuit of Ottilie when Cho seized his arm insistently, "beloved!"

A large chest struck the head of the lead rat, crushing it. The group looked up. The golden furred creature hung from the vines, a long, thin reed staff held carefully in his tail. His appearance was primarily that of a golden lion tamarin, though there were aspects of ocelot within his features, and he wore the garments, beads, and white body paint of an aboriginal shaman. Shrewd brown eyes took stock of Kiku and Burnu before coming to rest directly upon Jerin. A look was shared between the two, and the Oasis renegade turned his back on Ottilie for the first time. Junk inclined its head respectfully, "Master Nochtli."

The small creature said nothing, shifting to grip the vines in his feet and tail, and taking his staff, blew into the end three times in quick succession. Three rodents fell shortly, taken by the poison of darts they'd barely felt. The primate paused to re-load, rustling through a pouch. As he did Burnu leapt into action, curling up and rolling directly into the onslaught. Cho pulled her mask down and threw a handful of pellets, simultaneously disappearing and cloaking the area in a thick fog. The survivors of Burr's charge slowed, disoriented by the mist. Jerin glanced back at Ottilie, "do stay put. I'll be right back." He winked at her before disappearing into the fog in a flash of wire, following after Elsie, Aurora, and Dirac.

Left to wait in a comparatively eerie calm on the other side of the water, Ottilie crossed her arms with a frown. Legs however knew her too well and chattered so fiercely against the idea of joining the fray she finally thought better of it. Settling herself reluctantly, the Oasis creature tried instead to watch while the Jack circled protectively (or restrictively, depending on your point of view), though it soon became clear she wouldn't be seeing much of anything through the dense clouds. Sighing, O pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them fretfully. Toby, Henry...dunno which is worse, here or where yer at. I only hope yer both ok...

"Richard Doughty is not what he claims to be!" "His own son? What kind of a man would do that a child?" "Doughty's obsessed with war, we can't have that." "If he treats non-kydane like that I'M not voting for him."

The whisperings came louder and louder. The walls began to melt from Toby's sight. Henry turned toward him, suddenly he seemed far away. The world became a swirl of blurry colors for a moment as a overwhelming sense of nausea hit his stomach so far he had to double over to the ground in order to keep from vomitting.

"Tobe! Tobe! Are you ok? Whats happening?!" the young voice belonged to a small human in an oversized brown Gatsby hat.

"$#%@, he's losing it, Sun. I knew he wasn't ready for this." Another older voice cracked from a rather irritated looking scrawny human with died green hair.

He found himself in a strange red hooded sweatshirt, the hood pulled up obscuring his face, making him hot and uncomfortable. He couldn't move, yet he wasn't falling.

Everything was spinning, the Eulerian Path was gone, the caves gone, Henry gone. He was on a street, a crowd turning violent towards a campaigning speaker. An older vulpine Kydane stood reeling from the increasingly hostile crowd of human and animals in front of him. Then further away he felt it, even in the quagmire of his vision he caught the image of a large bus, a face in the window. Henry.

OOC: Hey, you know what rots? All these characters. I can't keep them straight in my head. I mean who's who and who likes who and who hates who and who knew who before the Complex? It's insane! You know what would be useful? A small write-up on each to quell the shakes. So here're mine =) simply scroll down to brush up on the individuals you might not know so much about. And if each of you could do up brief refreshers like the ones below for your character(s) I think that'd be helpful to all.

1) Ottilie O'Dethburr: A protagonist, a fixer, a young lady of questionable origin! Ottilie spends a lot of time smiling, running, acquiring injuries, and getting into trouble. She is a self-described treasure hunter and acrobat, a rarely described Interplanar Investigator for the mythical but actual Oasis, and an often-described traveler blessed with luck and imprudence in equal measures. She's on a mission to retrieve Algos treasure for the Oasis and for Prince Icosian, who she promised it to. Ottilie wishes everyone nothing but the best.

Relations so far...Ottilie is close to and trusts her partner Legs completely, likes Toby and Henry a great deal, is interested in Elsie as someone with the potential to do good, isn't sure about Aurora since she arrived with Jerin but thinks well enough of her because she looked after Legs, isn't sure about Dirac since he also came with Jerin, is distrustful of Junk, and distrusts Jerin though she wants to believe he also has the potential to do good based on a previous experience with him in The Ice Blinks (a mountain range).

2) Jerin Jestwood: Ottilie's former mark is an odd street performer with a shady past and any number of individuals who seem to want him dead or uncomfortable or maybe I'm wrong and they just want to throw him a party. Who knows? Not Jerin, as he's conveniently forgotten anything that might make his life harder. But he's so polite and easygoing, I'm sure he's not planning anything nefarious and that he didn't design a horrible maze in the middle of nowhere just to mess with people. Right...?

Relations so far...Jerin trusts his robotic companion Junk (mostly because he programmed him) as well as his newest bots Ball and Jack, is as interested in Toby, Henry, and Dirac as he is in anyone, finds Elsie 'extremely unpleasant,' is fond of former performing arts student Aurora, dislikes Legs, and adores Ottilie to the point of it being more than a little creepy.

3) Legs: Ottilie's grouchy mechanic and closest friend of nearly four years, Legs alternates between insisting everyone they run into is a potential threat and worrying that Ottilie is going to get herself killed. Legs needs a drink and a vacation, stat.

Relations so far...Legs trusts and is extremely protective of Ottilie, is grudgingly warming up to Toby and Henry, distrusts Elsie and Dirac, is wary of but grateful to Aurora for giving Ottilie medical attention, and hates Junk and Jerin.

4) Junk: Jerin's calculating repair-bot and only constant companion for many centuries. Like Legs it is often exasperated by its master's behavior, which is weird considering Junk's a robot. Just what's the deal?

Relations so far...Junk is indifferent to everyone except Jerin whom it is protective of, though it seems to reserve a particular sort of loathing for Legs and contempt for Jerin's new bots, Ball and Jack.

5) Special Agent 229 AKA Elsie Balefur: Resident instigator and P.I.A. field agent with a penchant for threats and doling out nicknames, Else has the remarkable ability to talk herself into trouble even when it's completely avoidable. A Bush orphan, she was raised by the P.I.A. after they found her buried in the remnants of a meteor shower. She's abrasive and hard to deal with, but there's something conflicting about her mannerisms. It's like she wants to behave one way but needs to act another.

Relations so far...Elsie distrusts and appears to dislike everyone she's run into, but she's definitely interested in Toby, Henry, and Ottilie.

6) Dirac Griess: A quiet baker from Rithm turned mercenary with a plethora of unfortunate circumstances, starting with his choice of employment. Dirac sold his life to Boss Houiri, a cruel and powerful Underworld figure, in order to provide for his family. Houiri may hate humans, but he was able to offer Dirc's wife and kids protection from Algos like no other, and Dirac has risen through his ranks in spite of everything due to their 'arrangement.' Houiri sent him to the Complex for reasons that are still unknown and he ended up shanghaied into Jerin's company when the creature caught him tracking he and Aurora. He is growing increasingly frustrated with his lot.

Relations so far...Dirac is distrustful of everyone at present, but adored and protected Heather as much as he could six years ago when she was Houiri's lab rat / prisoner.

7) Sir Meyniel of Algos: Algos' smallest and most capable knight (though the King holds him in a contempt similar to Houiri's for Dirac due to his size), Mey was sent by Prince Icosian to assist Ottilie in retrieving the treasure at the heart of the Complex. Confident, cheerful, and charismatic, Mey resembles Ottilie in many ways, though his age and experience have rendered him more pragmatic than she in certain instances. He also has loads in common with Dirac, he just doesn't know it.

Relations so far...Sir Meyniel has yet to form any ideas about the others since he hasn't met them, but based on how Ottilie treated his Prince he already thinks well of her and is also very grateful to Heather for saving his life from a group of Metallurgicans that attacked him in the Complex.

8) The Thousand Needle Assassination Squad - Nochtli, Kiku Cho, and Burnu Banarang: These three aren't going to be around much longer but I thought I'd include them for the hell of it. Basically the Thousand worked with Jerin's gang, The Lucky Seven, a few times back in the day so they all know each other and there were probably some awkward parties and shenanigans.

Relations so far...Kiku has a very obvious unrequited crush on Jerin, Nochtli seems to command Jerin's respect, and Burnu tried to eat Elsie and Ottilie unsuccessfully, so you can imagine they were a bit put off by that.

Annnnnd that's all I got for now. Post to come after Gem's =)

The scene melted again, his friends face gone, the bus gone, the crowd began storming the speaker station but instead became a rapid infested river of color. The nausea came again as the two holding him vanished, they'd seemed familiar but he could place them. He felt himself move, float on his back for a few moments before the river of colors slowed to a stream. Something was on him, not a person though, he could hear muffled discussion, he could see misshapen blobs of colors that could be people.

It was a blanket, a blanket was on him. He was in a bed? What was going on? . A sad feminine voice called over to him. "Xavier is your new brother." Her voice was so familiar, again he could not place it. The boy and young human that had been holding him up were there, he could feel their presence even if his eyes were useless. He felt something poke his feet. And heard the younger humans voice again. "Momma, he's got big feet." A short chuckle, he heard it, he'd heard it a thousand times but there was no name, no face, nothing to link it too. "That he does, Sunshine...

Sunshine.

"SUNSHINE!"

A wave of nausea hit with the force of a tornado, sending his senses spiraling into blackness and leaving the soft bed for the choking confusion of the rainbow flavored deluge.

Aurora sighed to herself as she and the others present prepared to battle the Complex rats. She'd come here to look for her patient, not get into another fight! Still, she mused, given the nature of the Complex- not to mention the nature of her patient- this sort of thing was probably going to be par for the course. Keeping her ears open, Aurora ventured into the fog created by Kiku's pellets, to face the rats. As she moved forward, she readied her venom. In other circumstances she might have decided to fight the rats using her remarkable speed, but their present location- coupled with the fog- made that a questionable course of action. Trying to run around in dangerous territory, in dense fog, with a lethal water-trap close by could hardly be considered a viable option. Though it was true that she could use both her ears & her remarkable memory to paint an accurate picture of who was where, friends & foes both were likely to keep changing position & Aurora didn't want to run the risk of accidentally charging into an ally at high-speed. The venom she was prepared to use this time was her most dangerous, the venom that was almost instantly fatal- a venom she reserved only for life-threatening foes. The choice to use it wasn't a decision she had made lightly. The simple truth was that her first form of venom, used to stun prey, would probably have little effect upon the beasts she now faced. Her second form of venom, whilst highly effective upon both body & brain, wasn't designed to result in paralysis or unconciousness- at least, not immediately. But it did result in excruciating pain. And the idea of having the already dangerous rats running around maddened by pain didn't appeal to Aurora at all. So, although she was loathe to take the lives of animals that might well be simply trying to defend their territory or their young, if it came down to a them-or-her situation, Aurora was going to make sure that it wasn't her.

A sudden snarling to her left made Aurora spin on her toes. One of the horned animals charged through the fog towards her! Quick as lightning, Aurora side-stepped it, striking with her claws as she did so. The rat continued past her before coming to a halt. Then a shudder passed through its frame, before it sank to the ground. Before Aurora could dwell upon having just killed one of the beasts, another one appeared right in front of her. Aurora sprang backwards away from it, coming to a stop just millimetres from the edge of the water-trap. Suddenly she had an idea. As the rat located her anew & began to charge, Aurora stood her ground. Then- at the last second- she leapt straight up, soaring over the beast's head as it plunged into the water. There followed a crackling, sizzling sound, accompanied by the smell of burning meat as Aurora landed again. Sheathing her claws, she deliberately began to call & shout, her noise drawing the rats to her. Three more rats followed the first into the water-trap before they wised up to the trick, but by then Aurora had worked out something else. Whenever a rat charged towards her, Aurora sprang into the air. If it stopped short of the water, then Aurora landed a forceful- yet measured- blow to the crown of its head when she descended again, thus saving her the need to kill them. During a momentary lull, Aurora looked it the direction of the water-trap, to see if she could make out Ottilie on the far side of it. The only good thing about the situation- as Aurora saw it- was that at least it had stopped her patient from getting involved in the current fight. She could only hope that things stayed that way & that the girl didn't wander into even more trouble whilst the others were preoccupied with the rats...

OOC: Now my first 'Aurora' post in a while is done, here's my contribution to the Quick Jess Pop Quiz!

1) Aurora: Presently a mercenary- though her journey to the Eulerian Complex was made entirely on a whim- formerly a number of other things including detective, bounty-hunter, spy, performing artiste and book-illustrator, to name but a few. She is blessed with almost supernatural speed & an unusually vivid memory.

Relations so far...Aurora is quite fond of Jerin, both as a former instructor of hers & as a friend, although she is now convinced that he is indeed the Jerin Jestwood. She respects Toby & believes him to be trustworthy, although she remains unsure if she personally can trust him. She is yet to form an opinion on Henry, is wary but respectful of Dirac & likes Ottilie & Legs. She has a measure of respect for Elsie, although she generally dislikes & distrust her as a matter of course, since Elsie represents the P.I.A. She remains repectfully neutral towards Kiku Cho & hasn't been around the other members of the Thousand Needles long enough to form any opinion of them as yet.

2) Heather: Formerly a lab-rat/ prisoner of Boss Houiri, Heather is presently a Tinker/ Barbarian. She ventured into the Eulerian Complex to claim the Treasure for herself, but an encounter with Sir Meyniel has changed her goals...

Relations so far...Heather has yet to meet most of the main cast & so hasn't formed any opinions of any of them. Though her default disposition is to distrust anyone & everyone, she was once close to Dirac & regarded him almost as though he was her father. She has also accorded a measure of respect & trust to Sir Meyniel, having allied herself with him to retrieve the Treasure for Algos, for reasons of her own.

Boobeep. Beep. Bebeep. Boobeep.

The noise was tonal, from a machine console. It was for a few moments the only noise he heard, the colors faded to darkness save a single blue light. For a time it seemed distance, yet slowly enlarging.... coming closer. More time ticked by, the beeping louder and louder, till he was in front of the light. A monitor, his fingers at the keyboard. "I heard you again last night." A girl's voice was behind him, laced with concern. He was still hunched over a monitor, his fingers slowed hearing her but did not stop the rhythmic beeping as the touchpad processed his commands, "Yeah, you're two beds down, I bet you ain't the only one that heard it. don't worry, I have a solution." He said it, he wasn't sure what he was talking about, or was he? The blond human folded her still grease covered arms over the front of his overalls, "No way Tobe. You are NOT sleeping in the engine room again. It worries me when you do @#%$ like that." The rabbit smirked, "Nah, that doesn't help anymore either. Myca said he thinks he knows a way, you know how he is, Lori." She sighed picking up a wrench and tapping it in time with Toby's keystrokes, "He creeps me out, all that magic junk is just weird. I don't know why Rob lets him stay, he thinks he's some kinda cowboy wizard or something." Tobias stopped typing and adjusted his glasses as if remembering something, "He's a Warden."

Warden?

The monitor flashed suddenly, engulfing him. He panicked grabbing for the girl's hand as bluish purple waves pulled him away.

"LORI!"

Thick curls of white fog swirled dream-like around the combatants, sometimes cloaking their positions, sometimes revealing them in unexpected places. Jerin darted to and fro, a restless shadow weaving thin strands of wire with a focus that could have belonged to either tactical warlord or slapdash drunk. Dirac remained near the water trap to keep from losing his way in the mists, cutting down attackers as they came at him. Elsie stood with her back against the nearest wall for additional protection, executing any and all rat-shaped creatures that passed in front of her with methodic blasts of light; and though the agent resented Jerin, they had this much in common: unlike Dirac, both could smell something not quite right about their foes, an unnatural, sweet and sickly odor that made them keep their respective distances as much as they were able.

Finding himself alone with Junk and his thoughts for the first time in days, Jerin dealt with the last of his aggressors with a twist of each wrist, pulling his wire trap up and into place behind him. He'd lost Burnu and Cho, though a trail of trampled, bloody corpses and needle-ridden victims charted their progress back up the path. The fog was the other indication Cho was about, for it was as thick where he now stood as it had been by the water trap. Several darts suggested the primate had been through the area as well, but in the case of the old monkey Jerin wanted more than remnants. Pausing among a veritable field of the flower shaped fletchings that dominated Cho's needles, he scanned the foliage overhead for any sign of the golden furred creature. "Master--!" Junk annunciated abruptly, and he started as Cho's arms slipped from the fog to lace around him from behind, a playful whisper in his ear, "he is not here, but you have found me."

"How suspiciously serendipitous," Jerin remarked, resting his hands on top of hers with an affectionate smile. He didn't seem at all bothered by her now, and she hugged him all the tighter for this contradictory complacence, resting her head in the space between his shoulder blades. His ears reminded him they weren't back in the woods yet though, so he turned as best he could in her embrace, and taking her hands, asked, "have you seen him?"

She frowned, shaking her head, "I have not, but you know how Master Nochtli is."

"I do, and I will speak with him tonight regardless."

"How suspiciously supercilious," she returned, eyes twinkling mirthfully behind her mask. He chuckled, and sweeping his bandanna off, bowed to her in a manner most debonair, "well how do my lady--!"

She laughed, "--do not start. Master Bastion should have sliced your silver tongue in two." Jerin replaced his bandanna carefully, snapping a thumb claw against its thin row of stitches with a wink, "nah. Bast did right. It's my lucky bandanna now." Cho smiled and looked as though she had something to add, but upon hearing a loud snarl, faded back into the fog. The Oasis renegade called after her, "remind Nochtli he does like me when you find him!" Her voice came from every direction, "perhaps I will. Perhaps not. I know you like surprises." He chuckled, jetting forward to meet the next wave. Junk twisted on his shoulders, zapping at the rats that got too close for its comfort as it said, "I have finished analyzing the saliva sample, master, and you were correct. These creatures are carrying a member of the lyssavirus genus."

Jerin zagged to the left, kicked off the wall and into a flip over the snarling pack to land on the other side, pulling his web taunt. The wire sprung up from the ground to snag those that weren't quick enough, and he secured it over their pained squeaks, "knew it. Zoonotic, right?"

"Yes, if they bite or come in contact with open cuts the virus is transferable."

The creature muttered to himself, reciting information he'd known intimately long ago, "ends in fatality more often than not if untreated..."

"Indeed, master. Their numbers are great, but given that most appear to be in the advanced stages of the disease I would not be surprised if those ahead have fallen already, not to Lord Nochtli, Lord Burnu or Lady Kiku Cho, but to the virus."

"Mm--" he paused to twist his wire between his claws and leap, bringing his feet down hard to break an assailants neck, "--oof! So I don't have to do this."

"Master?"

"We could just, you know--wait it out."

"Of course master, but--"

At that moment however a rat larger than the others appeared like a nightmare vision through the billowing fog, snapping Jerin's wire as though it were cobwebs. Her horns were larger and more ornate than the others, twisting in and out like the branches of a brier patch, and lengths of moss dangled from them and her fur. She barreled onwards with an entourage of smaller rats in tow, white foam trailing from her snapping jaws. When she was gone Jerin dropped to the ground from the overgrowth, where he'd been hanging from a single strand of wire. Glancing at Junk, he extended a claw to point after the female, "heh, good thing you finished with that sample before I had to deal with her." Junk made what sounded like a sigh, "as I was saying, master, the disease will likely claim most of them within approximately the next ten minutes, but it will take longer with the larger carriers."

Jerin scowled at this news, blowing some hair out of his eyes with a huff, "drats. And she's headed right for Aurora, too..."

Moving swiftly to catch up, he vaulted onto the larger creature's back, scurrying into her mass of moss and horns. This immediately caused the alpha female to grind to a halt with an offended howl and attempt to shake him off, but Jerin had lodged himself securely between three branches and held tight. Her entourage leapt onto her back all at once to rend him limb from limb, only they couldn't squeeze into the same places the slighter creature could and only succeeded in getting stuck between their leader's horns, making her teeter unstably. Chuckling among the chaos and cacophony of snapping rat heads, Jerin pushed some moss aside and poked his head out to draw the attention of the nearest creature with a sharp whistle and a grin. The rat snarled and leapt, but the Oasis renegade pulled his head back at the last second, his attacker's getting stuck in its place. This last rat proved too much for the leader, who sank to the ground under the combined weight of her entourage. Jerin relaxed as she struggled to rise beneath him, resting his arms along a length of horn, "much better." Junk loosened its grip on his good shoulder, dryly responding, "oh yes. Much. Would it not be simpler to strangle or gut them?"

"Probably, but I prefer this route to all that--" he gestured idly, "--leaping and twisting and what have you. If the virus takes too much longer I'll make my next move, but with any luck one of the others will hurry along and finish her for me."

"Very good, master." Junk replied warily. As Jerin lounged in (relative) safety however, the cries of the alpha female trapped beneath her court brought the rest of the pack, who turned from fighting Aurora, Dirac, and Elsie to go to her. Confused, Dirac followed Aurora, who maneuvered easily between several lines of wire to survey the situation, "great. Like these walking plagues weren't enough," Elsie commented crossly at the mercenaries shoulder, "lets get this over with!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

While Ottilie couldn't say her current predicament was anywhere near as stressful as what was going on across the water, the waves of nausea she was experiencing certainly made it less than pleasant. Luckily Legs was there to insist her queasiness was at least partially due to hunger and suggest they eat since they were waiting anyway. As a note, Oasis travel fare consists of two specialties (with many variations as far as spicing and preparing are concerned), the first being large, wafer-like cakes of blended grains, vegetables, fruits, nuts, and vitamins, and the second being buns stuffed with meat and/or vegetables. That evening the former was produced from an airtight container, and breaking off a large piece Ottilie held it up to Legs, who took it in his claws and ate ravenously. The Oasis creature was surprised to find she was hungry, though given the time of her last meal and all she'd been through since it really shouldn't have been that shocking. She was licking crumbs from her claws and feeling considerably better when the Jack droned warningly. Hearing dense footfalls and feeling the earth beneath her tremble, Ottilie scampered up the wall with her satchel to hide among the vines. Soon the owner of the footfalls trudged slowly into view. He was massive, with legs like tree trunks and a long, thick tail she couldn't have wrapped her arms around if she tried, and Ottilie recognized the facial features of the rat-like creatures, only his horns were far more magnificent, twisting and curling above his wrinkled brows to form a complex network of branch-like extensions. The other difference between this male and what she assumed to be his kin was the moss that hung from his fur and horns in great bunches, giving him a shaggy appearance. He was battle scarred with fresh injuries and the smell...she almost gagged, covering her mouth. It was sweet and sickly. Something was wrong with him.

Viral infection, Legs suggested. She nodded sadly.

Smells off fer sure, poor git...

Yeah, he's not long for this world. I think we should stay here though, case it's zoonotic.

Sorry as she felt, Ottilie had to agree and so settled herself more comfortably. The creature was standing at the edge of the trap now, staring into the fog across the water. He winced at the indignant howling of the large female on the other side, watching the shadows of his clan move towards the racket. He lowered himself to the ground after a minute, carefully arranging his long limbs. The Oasis creature frowned, moving to get a better look at him. To her astonishment a deep voice rasped, "you do not have to come down, but I would like it very much if you would speak to me. About anything."

Ottilie glanced at Legs, who shook his head wildly. She scowled. He gestured insistently, shaking his head again. The Chief went on, "it is hard to listen to my mate and kin reduced to this, dying like savages in our own land, even though of late I am no stranger to the sound. Please..."

Tears of sympathy sprung to her eyes, and she lowered her head, ashamed of her part in it all despite the circumstances. After a minute she uttered huskily, "m'sorry...m'so sorry...m'so terribly, terribly sorry..."

His voice was comforting, "don't be. These things do happen."

But her shoulders shook with silent sobs despite these things happening, and Legs couldn't bring himself to scold her for this, instead brushing her tears away with the help of the concerned Jack. The creature spoke again, "please don't stop. You have a pleasant voice."

Ottilie sniffed, nuzzling Legs gratefully, "th-thank ya..."

The Chief turned his head, "tell me about yourself. I've heard all sorts of accents, but only two others who have come to this place spoke as you do."

Legs shot her a warning look, and she nodded reassuringly to him before answering, "m'known as Ottilie O'Dethburr--"

"--O'DETHBURR?"

The great creature rumbled, getting to his feet so quickly she gasped, fearful he would lose his balance and tumble into the water. But he stood firm, and with voice trembling demanded, "come out where I can see you."

"NO," Legs chattered fiercely, but Ottilie was already moving, exclaiming, "he knows me name!" Undaunted, the insect grabbed a handful of her hair, "he might attack, and even if he doesn't you could get whatever he has and then where'll we be?!" She growled in Babylonian, "f'its airborne I got it already! F'not like m'gonna let 'im bite me or lick me wounds, ya think m'simple?! Now leggo, that hurts!!"

She jerked her head from his grasp, and he hopped after her jabbering angrily, "simple, no, stupid, yes, if you think you're in any state to fend off someone his size if it goes that way!" Ottilie landed on the ground, turning to glare up at her partner, "well thanks fer the vote o'confidence, genius." And whirling back around, she stomped out and into the open. The larger creature lowered his head, taking a closer look at her, and she quivered under his gaze, her body's natural reaction to flee. But Ottilie stood her ground and he didn't attack. He stared at her for a long time, long after Legs had resumed his place on her shoulder with a series of grouchy chatters, stared particularly at the bead she wore. Finally a big smile crossed his face, a smile of relief, "you're late. Almost too late. Follow me."

"S'cuse?" Ottilie inquired. The old Chief was already moving, and looked back with a shake of his head and a nervous glance at the walls, "not here. But I believe I know why you have come, just as I knew the previous owner of the amulet you wear around your neck."

The Oasis creature's eyes widened, and Legs was just as surprised for once. The beast took advantage of their silence to urge, "we must hurry Miss O'Dethburr! I know a safe place. I will tell you all there, but we can't afford to dawdle. My time is running out."

Legs shook his head as if to clear it, and looking up at her, started to say, "Ottilie, we can't. He's--"

Ottilie gripped the bead she wore, "--I understand. But m'no good ta anyone here. I can't help Elsie. I can't help Toby an' Henry, wherever they are, or that female who treated me an' was good ta ya, or the human, or even Jerin. But I can do this. F'he knows sumthin' I have ta try'n learn it so m'of some use." She looked back at him, "we'll be careful--" she bit her lip, "--please, genius?"

The decipede sighed, crossing his arms and hunching down grumpily, "I'm not helping you when he goes feral." She grinned, squishing the indignant insect against the side of her face in a hug, "yer the best!!" She nodded to the Chief then, saluting, "lead on yer lordship!"

And so they departed, away from the water trap and further into the Complex. Ottilie glanced at the Jack, droning softly to itself just beside her head. Other bots still o'er there...it led ya ta me once, Jerin. It'll do it again.

She broke into a run with a smile, but not 'fore I hear his lordship out an' find Toby an' Henry! An' the next time ya stand in front o'me, I'll be ready! Count on it!

"Get up. GET UP. IX. Get UP."

The rabbit's eyes fluttered open at the persistent shouting. He was looking into the face of an impossibility. An gerbil a little younger than himself, someone that shouldn't be there. Tobias jerked back, scrambling to his feet and staring in a confused stupor. "Wha... What. You."

"Tobe, easy, don't think about it. Just empty your brain out, don't try to understand." Beside the gerbil was Henry, or at least he thought. The rabbit blinked and rubbed his eyes, the boy had aged, now obviously well into his teens. A yellow furred hand went to his head, the rabbit squeezed his eyes shut. His head hurt, his stomach was churning, so many things were crowded into his head he couldn't process it all.

"Dammit Toby don't think!" A hand came down hard on the back of his head. He jolted back again yelping in pain. "Easy Kevin, don't hurt him." Henry snapped at the gerbil who in turn shook his head, "We can't let it keep going, I'll knock him out if I have too."

"You're... Not supposed to be here." The rabbit finally spoke, rubbing his injured skull. "You're dead."

The gerbil shook his head, "I told you not the think about yet."

"But you're dead."

"Obviously you don't think so."

"What does that have to do-"

"-with anything? Hasn't sunk in I see. What did you see?"

The rabbit shook his head, "Flashes... too many. My head hurts when I try to think about them."

"Don't think about them, that's why all this is happening. You can't think about it." Henry said lowly feeling around the room they were in for an idea how to escape.

"But he ask what I saw."

"He ask what you saw, not why you saw it."

The rabbit shook his head and sunk to the ground against the wall, "Ok... so. What now?"

The gerbil looked down, "We wait. And hopefully things will work themselves out."

The rabbit narrowed his eyes, "You expect me to just sit here and not try to rationalize why Henry just went through puberty to twenty seconds and you're suddenly not only alive but young again?"

The gerbil shook his head, "Honestly? I don't know."

Henry folded his arms, "Yes. Because you expect us too."

The rabbit balled his fists and rapped on his own head a few times. "What the HELL does that mean!"

The youth shrugged, "I don't know."

The rabbit gave a defeated sigh and let his head sink unto his knees.

Ottilie managed to keep pace with the rat-like Chief in spite of his longer strides, bounding over rocks and pillars with effortless acrobatics. The paths he was now leading her down were rougher and narrower, as though the architect had meant to make more of them but hadn't quite found the time or drive in the end. Eventually the sound of running water filled her ears, and the larger creature led her through a forest of vines and into an enclosed room, made even darker by the absence of sunlight. Being nocturnally inclined this didn't bother Ottilie of course, who's eyes had no problems picking out several slabs of rock scattered throughout the space and a waterfall that cascaded loudly into a deep pool. Legs shifted on her shoulder nervously, searching for any hint of danger while the Jack started to scan the area using its heat sensors. Breathing hard, the Chief sank to rest on a granite slab, "the noise from the waterfall should keep their equipment from registering our voices. We'll be safe here."

The Oasis creature frowned, moving to peer over the edge of the rock at him, "safe from who, yer lords--" but before she could finish they were interrupted by the Jack droning loudly for attention. It drifted back and forth just above the ground, indicating a crudely crafted door with one of its orbs. Bewildered, Ottilie got down on her hands and knees to examine the little door, which was certainly too small for the larger creature but just big enough for her to crawl through. Pressing an ear to its surface, she thought she could hear voices on the other side, though the roar of the falls made her doubt the accuracy of this. She looked back at her companion with a frown.

"I think m'hearin' voices, but s'hard ta say...where does this lead?"

The Chief's answer held concern equal to that of her inquiry, "to a room adjacent, but I thought it empty, as I've never seen anyone come in or out of this particular area."

"Bugger...I better investigate. No sense in bein' safe from one danger only ta fall inta another."

"You didn't think so earlier," Legs chattered sardonically. Ottilie shot him a look as the Chief responded tiredly, "true, and that will give me time to catch my breath. Do be careful though, and hurry back, I have much to tell you..."

"No worries sir, I'll do jus' that," she said with a curt nod of her head, turning back to the door. Uncomfortable with the idea she might be barging into another creature's dwelling, Ottilie knocked first, calling as politely as she could, "...'LO? S'ANYONE IN THERE?"